


Livin' on a Prayer

by Magykal777



Series: Wastelands of Time [2]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Apocalypse, Based On A Bon Jovi Song, Blood, Books, Canon Compliant, Canon Rewrite, Canon Universe, Character Death, Death, Drug Use, Drugs, Drunkenness, F/M, Human Dolores (Umbrella Academy), Implied/Referenced Sex, Klaus Hargreeves & David "Dave" Katz During Vietnam, Libraries, Marriage, Married Couple, Mentions of Blood, Not a Number Eight fanfic, Not psuedo-incest, Old Married Couple, Or trying to, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Apocalypse, References to Drugs, Reginald Hargreeves' A+ Parenting, Saving the World, Time Travel, Umbrella Academy - Freeform, Umbrella Academy Season 1, Umbrella Academy s1, Vietnam, Vietnam War, War, inspired by The Book Thief, they're doing their best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 55,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27845810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magykal777/pseuds/Magykal777
Summary: Oh, we've got to hold on, ready or notYou live for the fight when it's all that you've gotWoah, we're half way thereWoah, livin' on a prayerTake my hand, we'll make it I swearIn which Dolores Hargreeves and her husband try to save the world while running the very dysfunctional meet-the-family circuit at the same time.
Relationships: Dolores & Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Dolores/Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Klaus Hargreeves/David "Dave" Katz, Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Original Character(s), Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Wastelands of Time [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1972825
Comments: 218
Kudos: 289





	1. 8 Days Until Apocalypse II, 2019

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with season 1!!! I have a very important announcement to make below, so please read it before you start: 
> 
> Note: I am aware of Vanya’s actor changing pronouns as of yesterday to become known as he/they. I fully support their transition and am glad that they are working to find their true identity. In reference to the TUA character, I wanted to say that I will be referring to Vanya Hargreeves as **female**. I have made this decision because in my mind, the **actor** Elliot Page and the **character** Vanya Hargreeves are two different people. 
> 
> In addition, Vanya was referred to as she/her and “sister” throughout seasons one and two. Should the **character** Vanya Hargreeves transition in the show, I will, of course, use the appropriate pronouns/name changes for the future seasons. I, in no way, wish to discredit or diminish Elliot’s success and happiness but until we know more about his preferences for referencing his past acting, I have decided that, in my opinion, this is the best way to move forward story-wise. 
> 
> (Netflix has also confirmed that Elliot will continue to play Vanya Hargreeves, which I assume means that Vanya’s pronouns will remain the same, even if the name credit to the actor is changed.) 
> 
> Thank you for understanding and please also note that I will also NOT tolerate any hate or discrimination on this (or any similar) subject.

Someone was screaming as they fell through the portal.

Dolores shut her eyes tightly as she buried her face in the crook of her husband’s neck in an effort to block out the sound. The action muffled it slightly though it continued until they met the ground with a jarring halt, causing the woman’s mouth to snap shut at the impact. The screaming stopped though the world remained dark as she refused to lift her head to examine whatever new surroundings they were in. Instead, she murmured, “d’you think we made it?”

Beneath her, Five opened his eyes to watch the portal snap shut above them, they sky dark and grey compared to the bright blue they’d left behind. His arms tightened around his wife’s waist as he studied the sky above them, “I think we did,” he answered quietly.

A new voice brought them out of their travel daze, “… does anyone else see little Number Five and a random girl or is that just me?”

 _Girl? Little?_ The words made Dolores finally open her eyes and push herself off the…. _boy_ beneath her. She blinked in confusion as she stared at the brunet. It _couldn’t_ be Five, could it? He’d- _they’d_ \- both been old and white-haired the last time she’d opened her eyes, but now a fifteen-year-old boy stared up at her and she could see the ends of her own long, brown hair framing her face as she looked down at him.

The eyes, though. They were brilliant green and sharp, and she’d know them anywhere. She blinked several times to take in the boy’s new features and felt her mouth go dry. _Why did he have to be so… so_ attractive _?_

She’d _never_ been great at talking to good-looking people and always found herself stumbling over her words and becoming tongue-tied and _now_ \- “F-Five?” she stammered, unable to tear her gaze away from the boy’s face, though she could feel her own heat up the longer she stared at him.

“Yeah? Wh-“ his own eyes finally registered the girl above him, “ _shit_.”

Dolores felt the weight of several stares prickle at her neck and she jolted, scrambling up and nearly tripping over her feet to distance herself from the dark-haired boy, her gaze suddenly becoming fixated on her now too-big shoes as the effort to meet the boy’s eyes became too much for her.

She wasn’t quite sure what happened next as the group that welcomed them adjusted to their unexpected guests. She hadn’t gotten a good look at them, either, and found she couldn’t lift her gaze from her shoes long enough to do so. She’d always been painfully shy in front of large, unfamiliar groups and this was no different, even so many years later.

It felt strange being in her younger body again, especially as _this_ was the one that had survived the apocalypse they were currently trying to stop. It was odd being able to see her brown hair again after so many years of it being held back or white and her clothes- never very comfortable to begin with- shifted awkwardly on her now-small frame.

As they made their way inside the house from the courtyard, she risked a hesitant glance up at the _boy_ in front of her. That was also something she’d have to get used to and, knowing Five, he was _not_ pleased with this new development. Even with her current….communication difficulties though, she couldn’t complain.

They stopped in the kitchen and the group- which she was slowly realizing were Five’s siblings- arranged themselves on or around the table as the boy began gathering ingredients. Dolores stood off to the side in the shadows of the kitchen to (hopefully) avoid group interaction. As the boy reached for the bread, he asked, “what’s the date? The _exact_ date?”

“The twenty-fourth,” the dark-haired woman answered as he opened the bag.

“Of what?”

“March.”

“Good.”

_Eight days._

“So, are we gonna talk about what happened?” the largest of his brothers asked.

The boy took out two slices of bread and laid them on the cutting board. Five didn’t answer and continued to make the sandwich, prompting the same man to stand up authoritatively, “it’s been seventeen years.”

Five scoffed, “it’s been a lot longer than that,” he disappeared in a flash of blue to reappear next to the counter to reach for the peanut butter.

“Where’d you go?” the man dressed in all black asked.

“The future. It’s shit, by the way,” Five added as he returned to his sandwich.

“Called it!”

"I should've listened to the old man. Y'know, jumping through space is one thing, time travel is just toss of the dice," he then looked up at his assembled siblings, his eyes rose to take in his siblings arranged before him, "nice dress."

"Oh, well, danke."

"How did you get back?" the dark-haired woman asked.

"In the end I had to project my consciousness forward into a suspended quantum state version of myself that exists across every possible instance of time."

"That doesn't make any sense," the darkly-dressed man said.

Behind her curtain of hair, Dolores rolled her eyes. 

"Well, it would if you were smarter."

The dark-haired man stood up angrily, but his larger brother put an arm out to stop him, "how long were you there?"

"Forty-five years, give or take."

He sat down heavily, "so, what, are you saying you're fifty-eight?"

Five gave him an irritated look, "no, my consciousness is fifty-eight, apparently my body is fifteen again," he picked up his finished sandwich and turned away from them.

"How does that even work?" the same dark-haired asked.

"Dolores kept saying the equations were off. Bet you’re laughing now,” he added, glancing back at the dark-haired girl. He frowned at the lack of response _._ He turned back to his sandwich and cut it in half vertically.

"Dolores?"

"Guess I missed the funeral," Five said, ignoring the question.

"How'd you know about that?"

"What part of the future do you not understand?" Five snapped, before saying, "heart failure, huh?"

"Yeah," came the response at the same time the large man said, "no."

"It's nice to see nothing's changed," the now-boy said, turning to leave. He stepped towards the brunette and held out half of his sandwich, which she accepted with uncharacteristic tentativeness.

"That's it, that's all you're going to say?" his other sister spoke for the first time.

He grasped the girl’s free arm and began to gently tug her out of the room, “what else is there to say, it's the circle of life!”

\--

As they walked up the stairs, he glanced back at the girl with a frown as he took in the untouched sandwich clutched in her fingers, “you should eat, Dolly,” he told her, his tone taking a one-eighty from how he’d spoken to his siblings.

“Not hungry,” she mumbled in response as they reached the second floor. She still refused to meet his eyes, something that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you about the equations, okay?” he said, “now will you stop being mad at me? We have bigger fish to fry.”

“Not mad,” was the girl’s only response, causing the boy to roll his eyes.

“What are you, a caveman? Use your words, Dol. Lord knows you’ve never held back before.”

Dolores could only bite her lip as her gaze stayed focused on the spot where the boy’s hand was gently grasping her arm, the area where he touched her feeling unnaturally- pleasantly- warm. _How were they supposed to save the world like this?_ She supposed she was going to have to get over herself, somehow. Eventually.

“I’m fine,” she finally managed to get out after a moment of silence.

He gave her a disbelieving look before he sighed and gently tugged her forward until they stopped in front of one of the many doors that lined the hallway, “you don’t seriously think I’m going to believe that, do you? You’re clearly not _fine_ \- you haven’t even looked at me since we arrived. If you’re not mad about the equations then what is it?”

Thankfully, he released her arm so she could focus and she hugged herself as she tried to come up with a reasonable answer without revealing the truth. The intensity of his gaze completely on her made it hard to concentrate and the only thing she could blurt out was, “you’re really hot, okay?”

Immediately, she felt her cheeks flame red and she buried her face in her hands, dropping the sandwich she’d been holding as the boy gave her a slightly puzzled, slightly irritated look, “I’m perfectly comfortable. I asked about you, you know.”

The girl peeked through her fingers, her vision obscured by the dark strands of hair that hung in her face and she forced out, “you’re- you’re- _attractive_.”

He only continued to look confused, “so? You’ve already seen me, Dol. It shouldn’t be this much of a shock.”

The brunet shook her head, “I only saw your face for the first time at eighteen, Five. Besides, you already had a beard so it didn’t count. I never- never saw you like _this_. And- and your siblings-“

“What about my siblings?” the question came out sharper than he intended, but a part of him felt defensive of the people he’d grown up around, but the larger part was concerned that they’d done or said something that had put off the brunette.

“I- well, I’m finally putting faces to names and I’m- I’m just realizing that they all have these important powers and you do, too, and I’m just- I’m just _nobody_. I’m not special-“

“Dol.”

“I’m completely _ordinary_ ,” she continued as if she hadn’t heard him, her voice sounding upset, “I’m unremarkable-“

“ _Dolores_ ,” Five said again, this time his tone sharper.

“I don’t- I don’t measure up. I _can’t_ , not when I don’t have anything special-“

Her words finally stopped tumbling out of her mouth as Five’s hands came up to tug her own down so his could gently cup her face, effectively cutting off all thought process as he tilted her head up so that she would _finally_ look at him. If this had been any other situation, he’d have lovingly made fun of how tomato-red her face was, but his expression was completely serious (if not a little miffed) as he looked down at her, “you _are_ special,” he told her firmly, “and you’re more of an idiot than I thought if you think otherwise. You don’t need powers to stand out, you do that perfectly fine on your own. Besides, you wouldn’t be my wife if I thought you were boring.”

Her frown only became more prominent at his words and the boy sighed. Even after all these years, he still hadn’t gotten this role right.

“Am I, though?” she asked quietly.

“Are you what, boring?”

She shook her head between his cupped hands, “your wife.”

His blood chilled as he froze at her words, “wh-why- why would you _ask_ that?” he said, his voice coming out quiet and pained, “of _course_ you are-“

“We’re fifteen again,” she interrupted him, gesturing between their younger bodies, “not exactly marrying age. If we stop this thing we’d have another chance-“

“I don’t _want_ another chance,” this time, he interrupted her, his tone fiercer than before, “you _are_ my wife, Dolly, as long as you’ll have me. Space and time can’t change that. My body may be to young to show what you are to me, but my heart and mind know it. Surely that’s enough?”

Dolores felt her eyes prickle with tears and she suddenly surged forward to wrap her arms around the boy- _man_ \- she loved, clinging to him tightly, “I love you,” she whispered against the slightly rough, familiar feel of his suit jacket, “you will _always_ be enough. I just thought that- that _I_ might not be-“

The boy hugged her back and lowered his head to press his face into her dark hair, “I love you, too,” he murmured back, cutting off the rest of her sentence, “and since you won’t let me talk badly about myself, did you really think I was going to let you get away with it?”

The girl gave a weak laugh as she continued to clutch at his jacket and the boy ran his fingers soothingly through her long hair, “you know,” he mused aloud, “you’re quite cute when you’re flustered. I might have to make you embarrassed more often.”

The brunette felt her face flame again and she pinched his side in response, “don’t you dare,” she warned as she finally let go of him. It was still hard for her to look directly at him, so she focused on a point somewhere around his nose, which helped (but _jeezus, how did everything fit his face so well?_ ). She felt more than saw his finger gently tuck some of the long strands behind her ear and she risked a glance upward to see him watching her with amusement, “for the record,” he continued, “I find you quite attractive as well.”

“Yeah, well, you better,” she huffed as he lifted his arm to let his fingertips gently touch her forehead, “your bangs are back,” he observed, pleased.

Dolores rolled her eyes, “I don’t know why you like them so much. Growing them out was a pain.”

He shrugged, “they fit your face.”

She gave him a mock-concerned look, “are you feeling alright? You’re laying it on quite thick, you know.”

His lips quirked slightly, “I’m just trying to butter you up so you won’t give me such a hard time about not listening to you.”

The brunette grinned, “good luck with that, once I get over myself you’ll never hear the end of it.”

 _She was feeling better now_. The shock had worn off and they’d fallen back into their familiar patterns, even in _un_ familiar ground. They weren’t in front of a large group anymore which also made her confidence recover and it helped that she still hadn’t really made eye contact with the boy. She straightened and looked down at their baggy clothes, “we better change before we get started.”

“Why do you think we’re here?” he pushed open the door to what she discovered was a bedroom- _his_ childhood bedroom, to be exact.

He headed straight for the old wardrobe that stood in the corner of his room and opened the doors, shifting through the clothes for a minute before he sighed, “shit.”

Dolores came over to stand behind him as she peered into the dark recesses, “what?”

The boy pulled out a navy-blue uniform, “I don’t have any other clothes,” he said, showing her the outfit, “you probably won’t have much luck with my sisters, either,” he held up the uniform to compare it to her frame and added, “you’ll probably fit Allison’s best.”

“Allison?” she repeated the name as she tried to recall which sibling it went to.

“Number Three,” Five answered, tossing the uniform on the bed as he shrugged out of his jacket, “the Rumor. She was wearing the blue shirt.”

“Oh!” the brunette nodded once she’d put the information together, “uh, where’s her room? I can meet you back here.”

“At the end of the hall on the left,” the boy answered, tossing his too-large shirt on the bed, “though you’re welcome to stay, if you’d like,” he sent her a mischievous look as he kicked off his shoes.

The brunette’s face flushed and she quickly backed up towards the door, “m-maybe later,” she forced out, ignoring the boy’s laughter as she hightailed it out of the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Once on the other side, she placed a hand to her chest to try and calm her racing heart as she closed her eyes to steady her breathing. _How was she supposed to survive eight days like this?_ Scratch that, the rest of her _life_ after they stopped the apocalypse? Granted, it would get easier once they turned eighteen (again) and got on familiar ground, but that was three _years_ away.

Dolores followed Five’s instructions and found herself in a rather girly bedroom filled with- predictably- fashion magazines and other things normal fifteen-year-old girls liked. She closed the door behind her and made her way to Allison’s copy of Five’s wardrobe, opening it to find the girl’s version of The Umbrella Academy uniforms. She changed quickly, buttoning up the starched, white collared shirt, pulled on the navy blue knee-socks. A plaid dress went over the white shirt and she hesitated at wearing the jacket. A part of her thought it was wrong to wear something that symbolized a family she wasn’t part of but she decided to put it on for practical reasons. March in Canada was not what one would consider _warm_ , so a short-sleeved shirt would get chilly quickly.

She studied herself in Allison’s mirror after that, taking in her long, chocolate-brown hair that fell past her elbows, the bangs that ended just above her blue eyes. She’d always thought her nose was a little too small for her face but otherwise she was quite content with her appearance. Studying the items on Allison’s desk, she picked up a silver chain with a locket on it with the letters _A + L_. Unhooking the clasp, she slid the locket off and set it carefully in a visible place so the woman wouldn’t loose it and slipped the chain through her ring instead. It had never truly fit her properly- she’d refused to let The Commission resize it- but now it wouldn’t even stay on her finger, so to prevent it from being lost, she clasped the necklace around her neck to keep the ring close.

The final item she borrowed from Allison’s room was a length of black ribbon, which she tied around her hair to keep it out of her face. Satisfied that she had done all she could, she reentered Five’s room after making sure to knock on the door. The boy had seemingly been pacing back and forth waiting for her to be done and she claimed his attention as soon as she stepped through the door, “finally!” he exclaimed, turning to (probably) berate her for how long she took, “we’ve only got- _oh_.”

She blinked in surprise as he interrupted himself, something he’d _never_ done before, unless it was to follow a tangent. He now stared at her speechlessly, his green eyes wider than she’d ever seen them and his mouth open slightly as he stared at her. The girl shifted awkwardly under his gaze and made to tuck her hair behind her ear self-consciously, only to remember she’d pulled it back. Her hand dropped to her side, “is- is it bad?” she asked nervously, tugging on the jacket sleeve, “I wasn’t sure about the jacket, seeing as I wasn’t a part of the Academy, but-“

“No!” the boy interrupted quickly, wincing at how loud it had come out, “no,” he repeated, softer, “it’s good,” he cleared his throat, “uh, really good.”

A smile tugged at her lips as he crossed the room. In a smooth movement, he gave the ribbon holding her hair back a gentle pull and let the strands fall around her face again, “except for that. You won’t be needing it.”

“Five!”

The boy kept it out of reach as she tried to grab it, the girl eventually giving up with a sigh, “fine, but if my hair gets pulled for some reason, it’s your fault.”

“I’ll take that chance,” he said easily, reaching down to grasp her hand in his. He startled when he realized that it felt _different_ (and not just because of the size). He lifted their clasped hands and studied hers before- “your ring.”

She winced at the disappointment in his tone, “it didn’t exactly fit on my fingers, Fives,” she reminded him gently, using her free hand to lift the necklace from her collar. (And she winced again as he visibly relaxed.)

“Oh, good. Uh,” he pulled out his own ring from his pocket.

“Do you want me to hold on to it?” she offered, “there’s space for two.”

The boy’s hand immediately closed around the cool metal, “no!” he exclaimed quickly before his tone softened, “I should keep it. Uh-“

“The ribbon,” Dolores pointed out, taking it from his hand and looping it through the circle of metal. She then grasped his hand and tugged back his sleeve to tie it around his wrist like a bracelet.

“Good thinking,” he said once she was done, returning his hand to hers before leading her out of the room.

“So, what’s first?” the brunette asked as they headed downstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it!!! I'm not a huge fan of the current story summary so I might change it in the future, but this is what we're working with for now.
> 
> I was going to try and fit the whole first episode in chapter one but I went from just writing it to eight pages in what seemed like no time at all so I decided to cut it off here. Thank you so much for all of your comments from the conclusion of the last book, it was such a nice surprise getting so many of them! 
> 
> Also, I've been doing some thinking and realized that even though we've spent almost five months (haha) "together," you guys don't know anything about me. So, in keeping with internet safety, here's some basic facts:  
> \- My pronouns are she/her  
> \- If you guys want to call me by a name other than 'author,' you can use Caliegh to make it more personal (though it is in no way referenced to my real name)  
> \- I live in the US and generally post chapters around 4/5 pm my time  
> \- My favorite color is blue (the lighter shades)  
> \- Some of my other fandoms include: Marvel, Harry Potter (though I'm NOT a fan of JK Rowling), The Chronicles of Narnia, TUA (obviously), and Boy/Girl Meets World.  
> \- I have a Wattpad account (which some of you have found) under the same user if you guys want to read some of my other writing. It can be found [here](https://www.wattpad.com/user/magykal777). 
> 
> And I think that's it! I can't wait to see your guys' reactions and I hope it lives up to the hype :)


	2. All in the Family

“So it’s easier to stare at a portrait of me than at my actual face?” Five asked teasingly, causing Dolores to glare at him as her face turned pink.

“Shut up,” she mumbled, glancing back up at the portrait above the fire place.

He came to stand beside her and placed his hands in his pockets as he looked up at the painting, “you like it?”

The girl was quiet for a moment before she let out a decisive, “no.”

He turned to her, surprised, “no? That’s literally me.”

The brunette shook her head, turning back to the boy next to her to look between the subject and the finished product before she answered firmly, “the eyes are wrong.”

“Wrong?” Five repeated incredulously, “they can’t be _wrong_. My father would’ve commissioned the best painter he could find-“

“Not like that,” she said, cutting across him, “it’s, well, in the painting, they’re rather… flat, I guess. Flat and lifeless and dull,” she turned, glancing briefly to meet the boy’s real-life eyes before focusing her gaze on his nose again, “your eyes don’t look like that at all.”

“Oh,” the boy said, not knowing how else to answer. He thought the eyes were just fine, but at Dolores’ description, the familiar, pleasant warmth filled his chest and his face flushed against his will. He was glad that his father preferred dim lighting. Taking a hand out of his pocket, he caught the girl’s with his own and tangled their fingers together. Almost immediately, he received three squeezes in response, causing his face to grow warmer.

Trying to change the subject, he started, “your hands-“

A quiet sound made them turn and a brunette woman stood awkwardly in the doorway. Five glanced up at his portrait again, his tone becoming more formal, “it’s nice to know that dad didn’t forget about me.”

Five Hargreeves suffered from the same selfish streak that all of the seven children experienced. Instead of time, or things, or other intangible items, _his_ selfishness came in the form of a person- Dolores. She was the only thing- _person_ \- that was truly his in the world. The apocalypse had made material things inconsequential and time was already his power, so the one thing he could truly claim as his own was his wife. She’d been the only one to live with him for those would-be terrible years in the apocalypse. She’d always been there when he needed her and she offered her support and loyalty unconditionally.

Now, they weren’t the only two people in the world. Dolores’ time would become divided with his other siblings and anyone else they came across and Five wasn’t sure if he was ready to have her shared attention. A part of him wanted to hide her away in his room as something- _someone_ \- nice to return to after a successful day of saving the world. He didn’t _want_ to share her with his bumbling family or to have them influence her way of thinking. On the other hand, he felt a certain loyalty to the family he hardly knew- he was, after all, hellbent on saving the world for them- and he knew he couldn’t keep his two worlds separate forever.

He also knew that _when_ this inevitable collision happened, he would never be able to tear them apart again. Dolores would be in his family’s lives permanently and his family’s lives would be in hers. He was sure that _her_ influence would change them for the better as it was just her way, but the variable in this equation was how his family would change Dolores and unknowns had always left him feeling rather… _worried._

He had too many things on his plate at the present moment to add another, so instead of wasting energy thinking about it something he couldn't control forever, he continued to speak, “I read your book by the way, Vanya,” he told his sister, tacking on her name for Dolores’ benefit.

Next to him, the brunette’s eyes widened in surprise, “ _you’re_ Vanya?” she asked excitedly, “I _loved_ your book- I read it too, I mean. You’re such a great writer, it’s incredible. I found it when I was younger because I wanted to write an autobiography and I was looking for inspiration, and my dad told me that you wrote one, so I took notes from it to write a better one myself-“

Five gave the girl next to him a soft, amused smile as he watched her rambled enthusiastically to his arguably favorite sibling. Vanya, on the other hand, was looking decidedly uncomfortable and seemed unable to believe the praise the brunette was giving her. At a break in the girl’s words, the older woman nervously tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she said quietly, “thank you, but I’m really a terrible writer. I don’t know why they published me-“

“Nonsense,” Dolores said swiftly, “you’re a great writer, I’m the crappy one. I mean, I never even completed a book and _you_ have. And it’s published! I loved how you were able to write like you were really there- well, I mean, of course you were, but you could make _others_ feel like they were there, too. I mean, nothing exciting at all happened in my life prior to-“ she stopped abruptly, looking awkward.

Five, thankfully, saved her by introducing them, “Vanya, this is my wife, Dolores. Dolores, my sister, Vanya.”

The girl had the decency to look embarrassed, “sorry, Vanya. I didn’t mean to get so excited, but I never thought I’d actually _meet_ you. I’ve never met anyone famous before.”

“Hey!”

“You don’t count,” she told the boy easily.

The older woman picked up on the seemingly odd introduction, “wife?”

“Yeah, uh, we’re married,” Dolores said, using her free hand to lift the necklace containing her ring from her neck.

Vanya seemed uncertain of what to do with this information but said awkwardly, “congratulations?”

“Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence before Five returned to the previous conversation, “I thought your book was pretty good, all things considered. It was definitely ballsy, giving up the family secrets.”

“They hate me,” the brunette said quietly.

“Well, there are worse things that can happen.”

“Like what happened to Ben?” Vanya asked.

“Was it bad?” at the boy’s question, Dolores squeezed his hand comfortingly.

\--

The six Hargreeves siblings, plus a blonde woman that Five had whispered to her was _Grace_ and what seemed to be an anthropomorphic chimp- who Dolores was having trouble _not_ staring at- that Five told her was _Pogo_ , all gathered at the kitchen door to make their way out to the courtyard for the ceremony. As they readied themselves to stand in the rain, the brunette ran a tongue along her dry lips as she wiped sweaty hands on the sides of her uniform dress.

As Five opened an umbrella over the two of them, he caught the action and gave her a worried look, meaning: _are you okay_?

She briefly caught his eye and nodded: _just fine, don’t worry about me_.

His eyes narrowed, _I’ll always worry about you, and your hands were sweaty earlier._

She jerked her head in the direction of his siblings, _we have an audience. I’ll tell you later._

The boy didn’t look particularly happy but sighed as he held out his arm to the girl. If her hands were damp, she probably wouldn’t want to hold his. She slipped her arm through his and glanced back at the chimp who was waiting patiently for everyone to get ready. It was probably just her imagination, but she could’ve _sworn_ he’d worn a shocked expression when he saw her before greeting her genially.

The group made their way outside under the drizzling rain and stood in a misshapen circle near Ben’s statue- she could only assume it was his from the metallic shaping of a young boy as the plaque was too far away to read. 

As they waited for the ceremony to begin, Grace asked, "did something happen?"

They turned to look at her, confused, and Allison answered, "Dad died, remember?"

"Oh, yes of course."

"Is Mom okay?" Allison asked, concerned.

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She just needs to rest. Recharge, y'know?" the man dressed in black- Diego, Five had told her- said.

"Whenever you're ready, dear boy," Pogo said.

Dolores watched Five’s biggest brother- Luther- turned the urn over and dumped out the ashes so they fell in a pile onto the wet leaves. The brunette felt very out-of-place surrounded by the other members of the Hargreeves family. She _wasn’t_ technically a Hargreeves so she shouldn’t be at their father’s funeral. She’d never even met the man and now here she was, standing with his… grieving?- that didn’t sound like the right word to use- children. She couldn’t help but feel like some sort of imposter at a family gathering, or maybe someone who’d been invited to a Halloween party, only to be the only one wearing a costume.

She shifted uncomfortably next to her husband as Luther said, “probably would've been better with some wind.”

"Does anyone wish to speak?" Pogo asked. When no one said anything, he continued, "very well. In all regards, Sir Reginald Hargreeves made me what I am today. For that alone I shall forever be in his debt. He was my master and my friend, and I shall miss him very much."

He paused before saying, "he leaves behind a complicated legacy-"

"He was a monster," Diego interrupted almost carelessly, "he was a bad person and a worse father. The world's better off without him."

"Diego-"

But he wouldn't stop, "my name is Number Two. You know why? Because our father couldn't be bothered to give us actual names. He had Mom do it."

Grace, perhaps hearing her name, asked, "would anyone like something to eat?"

"No, it's okay, Mom," Vanya reassured her.

"Oh, okay."

"Look, you wanna pay your respects? Go ahead. But at least be honest about the kind of man he was," Diego continued.

"You should stop talking now," Luther interrupted him, but his brother turned on him, too, saying, "you know, you of all people should be on my side here, Number One."

"I'm warning you."

"After everything he did to you? He had to ship you a million miles away."

"Diego, stop talking-"

"That's how much he couldn't stand the sight of you!"

Dolores jumped slightly as she watched Luther take the first swing and Diego retaliated. Pogo tried to control the situation, but it made no difference. Shaking his head in disappointment, he left. She’d heard of siblings not getting along, she’d seen it on TV sitcoms where they’d argue until the cows came home, but she’d never seen siblings come to actual _blows_. She watched the fight continue with wide eyes.

"Come on, big boy!" Diego taunted, hitting him.

"Stop it!" Vanya cried while Klaus had the opposite reaction, calling, "hit him! Hit him!"

As they continued fighting, Five gently tugged the arm the brunette was holding to catch her attention as he turned away, "we don't have time for this."

She followed him back inside the house, looking worried, “will they be okay?”

His attention already on other things, he barely glanced at her, “who? Diego and Luther?” without waiting for a response, he continued, “they’re like this all the time.”

Her brows furrowed, “they are?”

The pair stopped in the kitchen and Five began to hunt through the cupboards, “yeah, growing up, they were always at each other’s throats. I’m surprised it’s taken this long for it to become physical.”

Dolores moved to the table where, after a quick jump, she sat on the surface and swung her legs as she watched Five continue his search, “are you looking for coffee?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I know you, you idiot.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet!” a new voice made her jump and turn to see a man wearing a skirt- Klaus- enter the room, carrying a guitar. He took a seat at the head of the table and folded himself professionally into the armed chair. His hazel eyes watched her interestedly, “who _are_ you?”

“I’m-“ the brunette started to introduce herself, only for Five to cut across her.

“Ignore him,” he advised.

“What? Why?” the girl asked, confused.

Klaus pointed at her, “I agree with Tiny Blue Eyes.”

“I’m not tiny!”

“Your feet don’t even touch the floor, darling.”

“Don’t call her darling,” Five snapped in response, earning an eye roll from the brunette.

“If you won’t let me introduce myself, how’s he supposed to know what to call me?” she pointed out.

“Tiny Blue Eyes is smart!”

Dolores turned to the dark-haired man, “I’m Dolores, and would you please stop calling me that?”

“Never, Tiny Blue Eyes. It’s your name now,” he insisted.

The brunette rolled her _blue_ eyes, “okay, what if I just called you… guitar man?”

“He’d literally be fine with anything you call him,” Five said, now moving to look through the dry goods.

“So, what’s your relation to us, Tiny Blue Eyes?” Klaus asked.

“Oh, uh,” the girl paused, glancing at the boy who was bent over to search the lower shelves. Shrugging off the uncertainty since everyone was going to find out they were married _eventually_ , she said, “we’re married.”

The man grinned, “that’s nice, but I don’t remember saying that bi-word agreement.”

“No, _Five_ and I are married. I’m Dolores Hargreeves.”

Klaus’ eyes widened as he took in the information, “you’re- you’re married to _him_?” he pointed to the boy, “out of all of us, why did you choose _him_?”

“He’s the only one I met,” Dolores answered with amusement, “besides, he’s exactly my type.”

“Thanks, Dolly.”

“’Course, Fives.”

“Aw, you two even have nicknames for each other!” he exclaimed happily, “I don’t know how you put up with him, so you must be an angel. I could _never_ ,” he finished empathetically before his expression turned impish, “since you’re married, have you… y’know-“ he let go of his guitar to make a crude gesture with his hands.

Dolores’ eyes widened, “Klaus!” she exclaimed, embarrassed.

“Well, have you? I mean, it’s important for every healthy, monogamous relationship- and not just for monogamous ones, either-“

“ _Klaus_ ,” Five’s use of his brother’s name was much sharper.

The man lifted his hands defensively, “hey, I’m just inquiring after the condition of your relationship, that’s all. I just want to be sure my little bro and new little sister are happy-“

“We’re _both_ older than you,” the boy grumbled as he turned to grab a chair so he could search the upper shelves.

“Where’s Vanya?” Allison’s voice made the two sitting at- or on- the table turn, not having heard her approach.

“Oh, she’s gone,” Klaus answered airily.

Dolores frowned, “that’s unfortunate.”

Allison studied her for a moment before agreeing, “yeah.”

The two had yet to be properly introduced, but Five spoke before they could say anything, “an entire square block, forty-two bathrooms, nineteen bedrooms and no, not a single drop of coffee.”

“Dad hated caffeine,” Five’s sister pointed out.

Klaus scoffed, “he hated children, too, but he had plenty of us.”

There was a moment of silence before Five decided, “I’m taking the car.”

He walked over to where Dolores was sitting and gently grasped her wrist to blink them both out of the kitchen as Klaus asked, “where are you going?”

“To get a decent cup of coffee.”

“Do you even know how to drive?” Allison asked, sounding incredulous.

Dolores grinned, “he knows how to do everything,” she said proudly before they disappeared in a flash of blue.

\--

They reappeared outside in the family’s car. Without missing a beat, Dolores reached over and carefully drew the boy’s seatbelt across him as Five made no move to do it himself, both of his hands preoccupied with holding tightly on to the steering wheel. She frowned at his tense form as the buckle clicked and gave him a worried look, though she didn’t say anything as she buckled herself in.

Eventually he spoke in a quiet voice, “so, that’s the family.”

The brunette’s eyes never moved from his form as she answered, “they’re very… chaotic.”

He snorted, “that’s one word for them and a nicer description at that,” she saw his eyes move to glance at her, though his head stayed still before they focused on the road again. He made no move to start the car as he continued, “I know… they’re a lot to handle, and they’re definitely not perfect, and they can be loud, and obnoxious-“

“Fives,” Dolores interrupted the boy’s rambling, reaching over to gently pry his fingers from the steering wheel to take them in her own, “they’re your family,” she said simply.

He finally turned to look at her, “but-“

“They’re your family,” she repeated, “they’re who we’re saving the world for. You don’t have to excuse them, you know.”

Even after all these years of knowing her, Dolores _still_ managed to surprise him. Five didn’t understand how she could so easily accept his mess of a family, but she seemed entirely unbothered by their _chaoticness,_ as she’d put it. But then again, he really _shouldn’t_ have been surprised. She was the type of person never to be easily put off by anything, no matter how difficult or strange or absurd it was. She faced every challenge head first and even if she was met with a brick wall, she kept running at it from different angles until the obstacle- not _her_ \- crumbled. 

Giving her hand a squeeze, he freed himself from her grip to start the car, only to return his hand to hers once he began driving. There was no more to say on that subject, so he instead said, “your hands-“

“I know,” Dolores agreed quietly, fisting her free one in her lap, “they’re abnormally… sweaty,” she sounded embarrassed as she admitted it, “I thought it was just nervousness from being in a big group, and… my mouth is still dry, which I thought was _also_ from, well, discomfort, but…”

She trialed off and Five moved his eyes from the road for a split second to take in the frown on the brunette’s face and her furrowed brows before returning his gaze to the front, “do you feel… any other odd… uh, symptoms?”

“Well,” she confessed, shifting slightly in her seat, “I thought Pogo looked at me funny, like he was just as surprised to see me as I was to find out that, well, someone like him _existed_ , but I was probably just imagining it,” she turned to peer into the dark back seat, “I do feel as though we’re being followed _now_.”

Five tugged gently on her arm to have the girl face front again, “no one’s following us, Dolly. I mean, The Commission will track us down eventually but we’re good for now.”

“I know,” the brunette agreed, though it didn’t stop her from continuing to shift uncomfortably in her seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two siblings down and three (four if we're including Ben) to go! I hope the wait was worth it! There will definitely be more sibling interactions coming up in the future... I will say that Klaus is not a character I would typically write, so I hope I'm getting his personality etc. correct.
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed and see you next week!


	3. A Bad Day for Donuts

The pair pulled up to the familiar sixties-style diner a short time later. Before Dolores could even unbuckle her seatbelt, there was a flash of blue before Five reappeared outside her car door and opened it for her, helping the girl out after she freed herself, “well, at least I know chivalry isn’t dead,” she teased him as they headed towards the building.

The boy rolled his eyes as he offered his arm to her, allowing her to hook her hand around it, “you know you love it.”

He was right, she knew. The romance-loving girl that was buried somewhere deep inside of her _did_ love it, so she only teased him a little. As the boy held the door open for her, her mood sobered slightly, “you know it’s going to get worse,” she said to him quietly as they approached the bar.

Five’s hand dropped down to catch her slightly sweaty one as he gave it a gentle squeeze of support, “and I’m going to be there for all of it,” he reminded her, “we already know not to be in the Academy at night and you know your schedule well enough to avoid the store and school when you’re there.”

Dolores let her feet swing below her as she sat on stool as she answered, “but what about after we stop the apocalypse? I’m going to want to see my family again, at least once. We can’t avoid the Academy at night forever-“

The boy squeezed her hand again, silencing the girl, “we’ll worry about one thing at a time, Dolly. At least we know what we have to do right now,” he released her hand for a moment to ring the service bell on the counter before returning it to it’s previous position, this time the gesture was accompanied by the traditional three squeezes. As he was returning the action, the door tinkled behind them and the brunette immediately twisted around to see who it was.

An older, balding man entered the shop and sat at the counter close to them, causing the brunette to give him a suspicious look and whisper quietly, “why’s he sitting so close to us? The whole shop’s empty.”

In response, her husband gently tugged on her arm to turn her attention back to him, “Dol,” he said patiently, though his voice was firm, “relax.”

As she let out a breath in an effort to follow his advice, a woman wearing a pink uniform approached them from behind the counter, “sorry, the sink was clogged. So, what’ll it be?”

The older man spoke first, “uh, I’ll have a chocolate eclair.”

“Sure,” she replied, “can I get the kids glasses of milk or something?”

Dolores _knew_ this wasn’t going to end well as Five said bluntly, “the kid wants coffee. Black.”

She aimed three kicks under the table at his foot, prompting him to be _nice_. Her efforts resulted in the boy giving a large, fake smile to the waitress who seemed more uncomfortable than reassured. Rolling her eyes, she added, “I’ll have water, please.”

The older woman stared at them for a moment before saying, “cute kids.”

The man next to them looked uncertain, “uh, I s'pose.”

“Okay,” she said, trying to recover as she tucked away her notepad. The woman went off to complete their orders.

“Good thinking about the water,” Five murmured to her so the other man wouldn’t hear.

“I _want_ coffee but I didn’t think it would help in this case,” she answered grumpily, causing the boy to give her a more genuine smile.

“You can have some of mine.”

She made a face, “gross.”

“Speaking of gross,” he continued, “I don’t remember this place being such a shithole. We used to come here as kids and eat donuts ‘til we puked. Simpler times, huh?”

“I came here too, actually,” Dolores said, nodding, “and they _were_ simpler, but I didn’t know you then.”

He glanced at her before looking quickly away, “would you change anything if you knew what would happen?”

She knew what he was really asking. _Did she miss her old life, without him?_ Without The Commission, before the apocalypse, before knowing it was up to them to save the world.

She knew the answer, though, and didn’t hesitate to give it, “no.”

“No?”

The brunette shrugged, watching the waitress pour Five’s coffee, “I’d rather have a difficult life _with_ you than a simple one without you.”

The boy stared at her, uncertain of how to respond but recognizing the familiar warmth that filled his chest as he watched her. It had always been so _easy_ for her to admit her feelings- once they got past the first time, of course- it seemed as though it took no effort on her part to admit how much he meant to her and it took him by surprise every time.

He was saved from responding by the return of the older woman, who placed the éclair in front of the man, the coffee in front of him, and the water in front of the girl.

“I got his,” the stranger spoke, handing over the payment.

Five gave him a surprised look, “thanks.”

As the brunette drank her water, the boy spoke again, “you must know your way around the city.”

“I hope so. I’ve been driving it for twenty years.”

“Good. I need an address.”

\--

The man left not long after that, leaving the pair alone again. The door tinkled again, signaling another customer, and Dolores tensed. This time, she had good reason for her suspicion. A group of men in dressed in black filed through the entrance, heavily armed with guns.

Neither ex-Commission worker acknowledged them, though. The only changes were minute: Five dropping his hand below the counter to hold on to the girl’s tightly and the girl herself taking an obnoxiously-loud sip of water.

“Hmm. That was fast. I thought we’d have more time before they found us,” Five commented to the brunette.

Dolores placed her glass on the counter, “well, they do know time is of the essence.”

“Okay,” the leader said, holding a gun up to the boy’s head, “let’s be professional about this, yeah? On your feet and come with us. They just want to talk.”

“We have nothing to say,” Five replied evenly.

“It doesn’t have to go this way,” the man spoke again, “do you think that I want to shoot a couple of kids? Go home with that on my conscious?”

The brunette couldn’t help but snort, “if you _had_ a conscious, you wouldn’t be working for The Commission.”

The boy gave her hand a warning squeeze as one of the gunmen trained his weapon on _her_ head, “well, I wouldn’t worry about that,” he said, “you won’t be _going_ home.”

Slowly, he reached for the butter knife lying next to his free hand before there was a flash of blue and the pair disappeared. There were confused shouts from the group which were ignored by the couple as they reappeared behind the counter. Five gently pushed the girl to the ground and crouched in front of her, “stay here, okay?” he told her, “I’ll be back before you know it.”

His words didn’t stop the anxious look from taking over the brunette’s face as he stood to leave and the girl lurched forward to grasp his wrist. The boy, still half-crouched, turned and gave her an exasperated look, “Dol-“

“Be safe,” she pleaded, unable to hide the worry in her tone. She knew she wouldn’t be able to save the world without him.

His expression softened, though he _did_ give her a smug smile, “aren’t I always?” he asked, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to her forehead before shaking himself free from her grasp and blinking out of sight.

Once he was gone, the brunette pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face against them. The second the gunshots started, she used her hands to cover her ears as she huddled behind the counter. Of _course_ she had faith in his abilities- as much as she detested that The Commission taught him how to do this- but that never stopped her from worrying before, and this time she couldn’t hyper-clean to rid herself of the lingering doubts that plagued her for the brief minutes Five was out of sight.

She jumped when she felt a hand on her arm and her head jerked up quickly only to see the boy giving her a reassuring look. As she pulled her hands away from her ears, he gave her arm a squeeze, “it’s just me,” he told her comfortingly.

The girl uncurled herself and threw her arms around the boy, unintentionally pulling him back towards the counter and causing him to let out a slight “oomph” as she hugged him tightly, “thank god,” she whispered against his hair as hugged her back.

As the boy pulled away, she caught sight of a patch of red on his arm and she grabbed it gently, pulling it towards her to inspect it, “blood,” she realized, her worry returning.

“The tracker,” he explained quickly, “we’ll have to take out yours, too.”

That did nothing to ease her anxiety as she’d always been squeamish around blood, though she’d toughened up in the apocalypse when it had come to the boy’s injuries- her own still grossed her out.

“I’ll do the best I can,” he promised, pulling her arm towards him. They’d worked with less before, after all.

The girl’s only response was to bite her lip as his hand tugged up her sleeve to bare her forearm for the cut. They had nothing to sanitize it with, but they’d make do with what they had. One of Five’s hand softly gripped the underside of her forearm and the other held the knife, his fingers steady and gentle as possible as he worked to free the tracker. For Dolores’ part, she only bit down more firmly at the incision and did her best not to make a sound at the sight of blood spilling from the wound. She forced down the urge to vomit as she felt the boy’s fingers dig around to find the tracker, and then it was over.

The pill-shaped object sat resting innocently in his hand next to its pair that had come from _his_ arm. The boy’s expression softened at the discomfort on the brunette’s face and he carefully lowered her arm so he could reach across and take her hand from her non-injured arm, “you did great, Dol,” he told her quietly, leaning forward to press his lips to hers.

Dolores’ eyes closed at the feeling and some of the pain seemed to dull from the action as she became… _distracted_. He pulled away all too soon, though, and his hand closed around the extracted items, “we should get out of here.”

The brunette nodded in agreement and stood, turning to leave the way they came in. She was surprised to find Five blocking her path, “uh-“

“Not that way,” he explained quickly, tightening his grip on her hand.

She frowned in confusion at why they’d bother to blink out when they could _walk_ out without much extra effort, but she didn’t protest as they reappeared in front of the shop. The brunette instinctively turned to look behind them, only to be stopped by the boy, “don’t,” he told her quietly, “you don’t want to look back.”

She gave him a puzzled look, “okay?” she agreed, though it came out as more of a question. She shook her head and turned to lead him towards the car instead.

\--

They arrived at Vanya’s apartment a little while later only to find the lights on the second floor dark. Five gave a sigh of disappointment, “we’ll have to break in.”

Dolores gave him an amused look, “or we could just wait for her to get home?”

“You _want_ to wait outside?” he retorted, already examining the building, “how do we get in?”

“Uh, blink in?”

The boy shook his head, “I need to save my energy after all that. We could break the lock on the door.”

“Or, instead of forcing your sister to replace the lock, we can just enter through the window?”

He turned to her, frowning, “wouldn’t that be locked, too?”

“Nope,” Dolores answered confidently, “second-floor windows don’t usually have locks on them. My bedroom was on the second floor and the windows didn’t have them.”

He gave her a concerned look, “you should have locks on your windows.”

“Why? It’s not like I had a tree outside that someone could use to get in.”

The boy shrugged, “rapists can climb.”

“So can boyfriends and squirrels.”

“Are you calling yourself a squirrel?”

She gave him an amused look, “what makes you think that?”

“Well I’m clearly the ‘boyfriend’ in this example.”

“How do you know I was referring to you?” she countered, her face becoming serious again, “I could’ve had a boyfriend before the apocalypse.”

“You didn’t,” he answered confidently, though when her expression didn’t change, he repeated it less so, “you didn’t, right?”

Dolores finally let her smile break through as she laughed at him, “of course not, you idiot. Come on, then.”

She made her way to the escape stairs while the boy lingered behind for a second to mutter, “thank _god_ ,” before hurrying to catch up to her. 

\--

The brunette made to turn on the light once they were inside only to be stopped by the boy, who shook his head, “if she sees the light on she probably won’t come inside.”

The girl sighed and- with an extreme amount of fondness- announced, “you are _so_ weird.”

Five gave her a faintly amused look, “you know you love me.”

She returned the expression, “unfortunately.”

“Ouch,” he responded flatly, grasping her wrist and tugging her over to Vanya’s armchair and promptly sat down.

“And where am I supposed to sit?” Dolores asked skeptically.

The boy gave another tug on her arm and she lost her balance, falling clumsily into the chair on top of him, prompting her to exclaim “ _Five_!” as her face warmed.

“What?” he sounded genuinely confused.

“I can’t sit here!”

“Why not? You’ve done it before.”

“That- that’s different!” she stuttered, her eyes glued to the lamp that stood nearby, “I- your sister- I need to make a good impression!”

He had the audacity to _laugh_ at her embarrassment and he received three hits on his shoulder punctuated by her saying, “stop _laughing_. _It’s-not-funny_!”

“I’m sorry you fail to see the humor in this situation,” the boy said, though she could still hear his amusement, “you don’t need to make a good impression, Dolly. You’ve already _met_ Vanya. Is this still because you find me _hot_?” he asked, and it she didn’t even need an imagination to know he was smirking. 

The girl _hmphed_ and crossed her arms, keeping her gaze on the lamp as she ignored him, though she was acutely aware of her awkward perch and the warmth that filled her face. She was _definitely_ glad it was dark. After a moment of her sitting stiffly on top of him, Five reached around and gently tugged at her arms until they uncrossed, “look, Dol, I’m sorry-“

“You’re not.”

“Fine, I’m not sorry for laughing, but I _am_ sorry you’re uncomfortable. Trust me, though, when I say that Vanya’s not going to take offense to _this_ ,” he gestured between them.

The brunette sighed, “I just- I wanted to make a good impression and-“

“You already have,” he reassured her, wrapping his arms around the girl’s frame and as he attempted to get her to loosen, “c’mon, Dol, relax,” he told her, not for the first time that night.

With a sigh, she slumped against his chest and tucked her feet against the arm of the chair. She tucked her head against his shoulder and the top of her hair brushed against his cheek as she reached over to grasp his arm and pull it around her. Her right hand intertwined with his left and the boy’s other free hand rested in a surprisingly comforting gesture on her shin.

“You should learn how to play the piano when all this is over,” she commented quietly, remembering from their time in the apocalypse how long and nimble his fingers had been- and were.

“ _If_ , Dolly,” the boy corrected her gently.

She shook her head against his shoulder, “ _when_. I know we can save the world.”

Five’s expression softened and he turned his head slightly to press a gentle kiss to the top of her head, “what would I do without you?”

“Probably be pessimistic and grumpy,” she answered with light amusement.

“Probably,” he agreed, before adding, “you really think I should?”

“It would give you something to do- a new task. You’ll probably need it,” she pointed out, “and it’s not like you won’t have time.”

He rested his cheek against her dark hair, “would you like it if I did?”

“I think you’d be a very good one,” she admitted, “though only if- if it made you happy.”

He sighed, “now that’s a concept, isn’t it?”

\--

The door opened shortly after and Five leaned over awkwardly to turn on the light, causing his sister to jump in surprise, “Jesus!”

At the exclamation, Dolores’ eyes blinked open from the light rest she’d been having. The boy remained unstartled, “you should have locks on your windows,” he informed her.

“I live on the second floor.”

“Rapists can climb.”

“You are _so_ weird.”

The brunette’s head turned slightly to look up at him, “I _told_ you that already,” she pointed out.

Vanya closed the door and took a cautious seat on the couch, perched on the edge as if she couldn’t fully relax, “Dolores,” she greeted the girl.

“Hi, Vanya.”

The woman leaned forwards slightly, “is that blood?”

“It’s nothing,” the boy said, which was followed by an _oomph_ as he was elbowed in the stomach.

“It is,” Dolores confirmed, “do you have a first aid kit? I didn’t want to rifle around in your drawers like a creep.”

“Yeah, yeah I do,” Vanya answered, though she made no move to get up, “why are you here?”

“I’ve decided that you’re the only one I can trust.”

“Why me?”

“Because you’re ordinary,” which was followed by another grunt, “would you _stop_?”

“You’re not being nice,” the brunette scolded him, “and you need to take care of yourself,” she turned to the boy’s sister, “from what I’ve heard from Five about his siblings, you’re the only one who’ll listen.”

The woman met the girl’s eyes and studied her for a moment before nodding, “okay,” she agreed quietly, rising off the couch. She returned a moment later with disinfectant and gauze to clean the tracker wounds, which the brunette took from her.

As Dolores gently peeled back Five’s sleeve and carefully maneuvered his arm to work on it better, he began to explain, “when I jumped into the future, do you know what I found?”

“No.”

“Nothing,” he answered simply, “absolutely nothing. As far as I could tell, Dolores was the last person alive. We never figured out what killed the human race, but… I did find something else. The date it happens.”

“The world ends in eight days,” Dolores finished quietly, her eyes still focused on her task, “and we have no idea how to stop it.”

Vanya’s response to that was “I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”


	4. A Disappointing Doctor's Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please read the note at the bottom- I'd like your input on what I'll post next after the series is finished! (Don't worry- it won't be for awhile but I like to have a game plan)

“You know that rumor that Twinkies have an endless shelf life?” Five asked once they’d gotten their coffee- his black, of course, and Dolores’ extremely sweet (she’d seen Vanya try not to stare as she added spoonful after spoonful of sugar.)

Now, a soft smile graced her lips as she recalled the memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago, back before she could barely tolerate the boy she’d ended up marrying. It had been one of their better days, back then. She’d found his family’s lunchbox as well and had made an attempt at being nice by sharing the treat, though her efforts had been for naught when they’d both realized it was desert-dry and hard as a rock.

“Well, it’s total bullshit.”

"I can't even imagine,” Vanya said quietly.

"You do whatever it takes to survive, or you die. So we adapted. Whatever the world threw at us, we found a way to overcome it."

At this, she gave him a confused look, "we?"

Dolores raised her hand slightly, “I survived by pure luck. He found me days? Weeks? Later in my basement.”

The dark-haired woman blinked at the brunette sitting on her brother’s lap. It seemed impossible that they were _married_ , let alone this slight, ordinary girl to have survived what they were claiming was to happen. She still wasn’t even sure if she _believed_ it. Five had been gone for _years_ and with him just now turning up with a strange girl claiming the end of the world? It seemed impossible.

Seeming to have noticed the look on her face, Five sighed, "you got anything stronger?"

Vanya handed both of them the beverage, the boy taking a sip of his immediately while Dolores stared into the depths of the dark liquor, remembering it as the same hue her father and uncle used to drink- her father and uncle who were _alive_ in this timeline.

The seventh Hargreeves was silent for a moment and Five took that negatively, “you think I’m crazy.”

“It's just... a lot to take in."

“Exactly what don't you understand?"

Vanya sighed, "I don't know," she started, before studying him, "why didn’t you just time travel back?”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed as he took a sip of the drink, "gee, I wish I’d thought of that. Time travel is a crapshoot. I went into the ice and never acorn-ed. You think I didn't try everything to get back to my family?"

“If you grew old there, you know, in the apocalypse, how come you still look like a kid?”

“I _told_ you already,” the boy snapped, “I must’ve got the equations wrong.”

“Again,” Dolores added with a faint smirk, though her comment was unwelcome as the boy turned to give her an irritated look that said: _not now. _

“I mean, Dad always used to say that time travel could mess with your mind. Maybe that’s what’s happening?” Vanya suggested as Five refilled his drink.

“Then how do you explain me?” the brunette pointed out, “I’m not something he manifested out of nowhere. I can’t time travel, so that didn’t _mess with my mind_ ,” here, her words became slightly scathing. How _could_ Vanya not believe her own brother?

The boy set down the glass with a loud _clink_ as he bristled at the implication Dolores wasn’t _real_. He made his way over to her and grasped the girl’s hand tightly, both to convince himself he hadn’t made her up and to show Vanya that she wasn’t just- somehow- in both of their imaginations, “this was a _mistake_ ,” he said sharply, “you’re too young, too _naïve_ to understand,” he tugged on the girl’s arm, “come on, Dolly,” he added, pulling her towards the door.

She remained rooted in her spot as Vanya called after him, “no, Five- Five, _wait_ \- I haven’t seen you in a long time and I don’t want to lose you again. That’s all,” she told him softly, “and you know what, it’s getting late, and… I have lessons early, and I need sleep. I’m sure you both do, too. Here,” she made her way to the couch and spread a blanket over the pillows, “I’m sorry, I only have the one-“

“We’re used to sharing,” Dolores told her with a faint grin.

“R-right,” the woman realized, “we’ll talk in the morning again, okay? I promise. Night.”

“Night.”

As Vanya disappeared into her room, Five turned to the brunette, “you _are_ real,” he said firmly.

“Of course I am,” Dolores agreed, looking puzzled, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“I didn’t like her implying that you weren’t,” he answered, giving the closed door an angry look.

“Hey,” she said, pulling his attention away from the room as she squeezed his hand three times, “she doesn’t understand, yet. We’ll explain it better to her tomorrow-“

“We don’t need her,” he said decisively, sitting down on the couch and pulling the girl with him. He brought out their remaining lead from the apocalypse and let the glass sphere sit in his palm, “we’ll follow this tomorrow. We don’t have time to explain everything again.” 

“Fives-“

He sighed, “I won’t be mean about it,” at her disbelieving look, he added, “I promise.”

\--

The pair arrived at Meritech the following morning after having spent the night in their borrowed car. The building had a gray-on-white theme and even the patients and employees seemed to blend in with their surroundings. Dolores shivered slightly as she stepped closer to the boy to grasp his hand, “it’s way too clean in here.”

“Says the clean freak,” he said with a faint smirk.

She huffed, “that’s _different_. I’m not a clean freak most of the time.”

He rolled his eyes, “come on, the faster we get this done, the faster we can get out of here.”

“And save the world,” she added.

“Right,” he agreed as they got in the elevator.

It _dinged_ on the top level and they stepped out to a similarly-colored room, though this had expansive windows that at least let in light.

“Can I help you?” a man who appeared to be a doctor stepped out of his office.

Five turned and walked over to the man while holding up the eye, Dolores following close behind, “I need to know who this belongs to,” Five explained. The man stared at him.

“Where did you get that?” he asked. The boy rolled his eyes.

“What do you care?” he snapped back and winced as Dolores elbowed him. The boy sighed, “I found it in a playground, actually. It must have just,” he made a popping sound with his tongue, “popped out. I wanna return it to its rightful owner.”

“Oh, what a thoughtful young man,” The receptionist praised from her desk.

“Yeah, look up the name for me, will you?” he asked, his tone falsely polite. A frown appeared on the woman’s face as the man stepped forward.

“Um, I’m sorry, but patient records are strictly confidential,” He explained. “That means I can’t tell you-”

“Yeah, I know what it means,” Five snapped.

“But, I’ll tell you what I can do. I will take the eye off your hands and return it to the owner,” he offered. “I’m sure he or she will be very grateful, so if I could just-”

Five took a step back as the man reached for the eye. “Yeah, you’re not touching this eye.”

“Now you listen here, young man-“ the doctor started, and Dolores winced as Five lunged forward to grab the lapels of the man’s coat.

“No! You listen to me, asshole-“ he started, his tone dangerous and low.

The brunette leapt into action and placed her hands on the boy’s chest, pushing him away from the doctor, “hey, hey, hey,” she said soothingly, backing him up, “just breathe, Fives.”

She knew that if she wasn’t standing in the way, Five wouldn’t hesitate to send the man flying through the wall if he grew any angrier, but as it was, he stood rigidly still with his hands clenched into fists by his sides as he stared down the doctor with a furious expression on his face.

“Fives,” she said again, reaching up to cup her hand against his cheek and he almost instantly leaned into the touch. The boy looked down at her, relaxing immediately, “just breathe, okay? He’s not worth it. We need him,” she added more quietly.

The boy made an effort to follow her instructions and took a few shaky breaths as her hand dropped from his face to grasp his clenched hands and gently worked his fingers loose so she could tangle their together as she looked up at him, “just trust me, alright? I can handle this.”

His expression softened, “I do,” he told her quietly, and he let out a long breath as he leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead.

Once she was certain he’d calmed down, Dolores turned back to the shocked employees with a bright, apologetic smile and began to work her magic, “I’m sorry about him,” she said, “he’s got some, uh, anger issues we’re currently working through. He just really wants to support me, y’know? I’ve always been fascinated with prosthetics and I absolutely _love_ watching those videos where soldiers regain the ability to walk or hold something, right? I’ve been interested in prosthetics for a long time and I’ve always wanted to meet someone who had one, so when we found this eye at the playground, I of course knew exactly what it was. I was hoping to meet the man or woman behind the eye and hear their story of why they needed it, as long as they were comfortable with sharing, of course.”

“I’m sorry,” the doctor apologized sounding calmer, “as much as I appreciate your story, I can’t break patient confidentiality, so I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you-“

“Well,” Dolores said with a more cheerful smile, “I do have to congratulate you on your sticking to company policies. There are few employees who would uphold it as dutifully as you do, Dr.-“

“Biggs,” he told her, looking pleased.

Five watched as Dolores spoke confidently to the man who had the audacity to call himself a _doctor_ \- an insult to his field, really. The girl’s face was bright and animated as she gave him her full attention and plenty of praise, which he could tell the doctor ate up eagerly. She’d always had a way with words and had the ability to get whatever she wanted just by picking up on some invisible cues that he had no idea existed. She could spin whole stories by pulling true facts and twisting them around, or by making things up as she went with bits of truth here and there. As he’d watched her over the years, the one thing he _had_ picked up on were that the elements of her stories were never completely false which made them more believable. They were also extremely detailed so that only someone like Dolores could remember each and every facet. And then, somehow, they were walking past the receptionist and towards what he assumed was the room where their information lay.

As the doctor led them down the hall, Dolores beamed happily at her success. _They were one step closer to saving the world._ She startled somewhat as Five’s hand grasped hers and she looked up to see a slightly awed look on his face as he gazed down at her, “I don’t know how you did it,” he said quietly, “but you’re incredible. You know that, right?”

The girl turned pink at his affectionate look and ducked her head, still unused to when she impressed her genius husband, even after all these years. The boy’s fingers gently cupped her cheek and turned her face back towards him so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. Dolores’ eyes closed immediately at the action and she would have let it last longer had they not been following the doctor. Regretfully, she pulled away and motioned to where he was pulling away from them, “we have to keep up.”

“Damn him,” the boy said grumpily, earning a faint giggle from the girl as she pulled him along.

\--

“Oh, that’s strange,” the doctor murmured as the two teens stood near him as he studied the open file on top of the countertop.

“What?” Five demanded, stepping forward only to be pulled back by the brunette.

“Uh, the eye. It hasn’t been purchased by a client yet.”

“What?” Dolores asked, letting go of the boy’s hand to look over the man’s arm, “what do you mean?”

“Well, uh, our logs say that the eye with that serial number…” he peered at the paper more closely, “this can’t be right. It hasn’t even been manufactured yet,” he glanced at the brunette girl, who he much preferred over the aggressive boy, “where did you get that eye?” he asked, directing the question to her.

“Uh…”

\--

The pair left the building with lower hopes than they had when they went in. Five sat down heavily on one of the steps and sighed, pushing his hands through his bangs as he leaned his elbows on his legs, “this isn’t good.”

Dolores plopped down next to him and leaned against the boy’s arm, wrapping her own comfortably around his, “we’ll figure it out,” she said confidently, “we just need a plan B. We could check Ford’s Theater.”

“Probably another dead end.”

They fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts as they tried to figure out what to do next. Dolores stared out at the street as she watched people and cars pass by in a busy rush, completely unaware that this was- quite possibly- their last week on earth. She thought about her past self, currently going on about her daily life, completely ignorant to the fact that in the next few days, she’d survive ‘another’ apocalypse.

The brunette frowned. Would Five come along and save her in this timeline? Her head tilted slightly on the boy’s shoulder to look up at him before her gaze returned to the street. That was _definitely_ something to consider. Was Five’s past self already time travelling? Or was _this_ his past self and there would be no Five to save her future self? Would her future self perish in a dark basement alone? They _were_ changing the timeline and Five hadn’t returned- to her knowledge- in the original 2019. Now that he had, did that mean apocalypse-Five wouldn’t happen?

There were still days to go before apocalypse II occurred. There was still time to change future events. If Five _wasn’t_ going to be in the apocalypse, she somehow had to get a message to herself to not go into the basement on April first, for she’d rather die at the end of the world than weeks later. (Of course, this was if they _weren’t_ successful, though she fully intended on them stopping this thing.)

“Five,” she said suddenly, startling the boy.

“Yeah?”

“What if we’re too early?”

“What does that mean?” he asked, turning to look at her with a frown.

“What if the eye hasn’t been _made_ yet because the person hasn’t _needed_ it yet? They’ve still got a week to lose it, so-“

“So it could still be ordered by April first,” he finished, his eyes widening slightly.

“Exactly. It could be ordered tomorrow, not today. It doesn’t necessarily mean we’ve lost the person.”

“But how are we going to track the serial number?” Five wondered, “I don’t think _Dr. Biggs_ ,” here, his tone was mocking, “would let us see the files again. It would be too suspicious if it suddenly turned up and now _two_ of the serial numbers exist.”

Dolores chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully for a moment before she brightened, “if someone loses an eye, it’s probably a serious injury, right?” she asked, her tone almost comically jubilant for the question’s subject.

“Yeah…” the boy agreed slowly.

“We could check the hospital in a few days’ time to see if anyone’s lost an eye. They keep records of house addresses and close kin when you’re admitted, and they’d probably file an order like a prosthetic under the patient’s name for billing.”

Five was silent as he processed the information before his expression became one of complete adoration, “you’re a genius!”

Dolores turned pink and ducked her head. Two slim, familiar fingers slid under her chin and lightly tilted her head up so the boy could study her warm face with fondness, his expression soft and amused- though this time it was not to gently mock her- as he gazed down at the brunette. He leaned down and closed the space between them, his lips brushing softly over hers before he deepened it quickly, enjoying the faint squeak of surprise the brunette made as his teeth gently grazed her bottom lip, asking for entrance. She gave it to him readily and his senses became flooded with her presence.

The apocalypse disappeared into the far corners of his mind as it filled with the sweetness and familiarity of her kiss, of her soft lips moving contentedly against his, the warmth of her skin against his hand as he cupped her cheek against his palm. The busy sounds of the street faded away as all he became focused on was _her_ , Dolores. He became breathless as the kiss lingered on, though he would gladly drown if it meant that he could keep kissing her forever. He knew she felt the same in the way she leaned into his touch, welcomed the press of his lips against hers, trusted him enough to let down her guard as she kissed him back.

The boy’s free hand slid down to her waist and made to slide under her shirt, though he was stopped by an annoyingly familiar piece of fabric. Reluctantly, he finally parted from her and panted slightly as he cursed, “damn this dress.”

The brunette’s expression brightened as she let out a startled giggle, the noise filling up the space around him. He wished he could bottle the sound and drink it, though he’d probably be drunk by the end of the month... so it was almost a good thing that he couldn’t.

Dolores’ eyes were a light, brilliant blue as she rolled her eyes at him and her lips were now more red than pink and wonderfully swollen as she protested, “ _Fives_ , we’re in public!”

He gave her a shit-eating grin, though he was sure is lips were in a similar state, “you’ve never cared before.”

She shoved him gently and he allowed himself to sway slightly from the force, “you’re being cheeky.”

“You love it,” he countered easily.

The girl brushed her hair out of her eyes as they turned up to sparkle at him, “I love _you_ ,” she corrected him with a faint smile.

An impatient look flashed across his face, “alright, we’re leaving,” he said decisively, gently grasping her wrist and the two of them disappeared in a blue flash, none of the passers-by paying them any mind.

\--

Sometime later, Dolores helped Five adjust his tie as they straightened themselves out, the brunette drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as she concentrated on the neat knot she was trying to make. She didn’t miss the way the boy’s eyes followed the motion, nor his words that came with it, “if you keep doing that, all of this will be for _not_.”

A smile quirked on her lips as he gestured to their recently-neatened clothes and she shook her head, “teenage hormones, am I right?”

“We’re going to need to get you a new outfit,” he continued, looking down at her dress, “it simply isn’t practical for saving the world. Can you imagine having to fight in it?”

“Your sister managed just fine,” the brunette pointed out with a faint smirk as she smoothed down his vest, “and if we’re talking about a change of clothes, we should get you one, too. I’d love to see how you’d look in jeans.”

“Jeans?” Five repeated, raising an eyebrow, “I’ve always been more into formal wear.”

“Yeah, but they’d do wonders for that cute butt of yours.”

“You think my butt is cute?” he asked, amused (and pleased.)

The girl took his hand- and gave it the traditional three squeezes- as they stepped out of the nondescript alley, “I’m your wife,” she answered primly, “I’m allowed to think your butt is cute.”

“I never said you weren’t allowed to say that, I just asked if it was really true.”

They began to walk down the street, past the Meritech building, as she rolled her eyes at his smug expression, “I don’t need to confirm it and inflate that ego of your anymore. It’s a wonder that we can still fit in the same bed with how big it is.”

He huffed, “are you sure you’re talking about the right Hargreeves?”

It was her turn to give him an amused look, “yes, I’m absolutely positive. However, going back to the topic at hand, a change of clothes will have to wait.”

“What? Why?”

“We should probably make sure we tell your sister you’re okay.”

“Why?” the boy repeated.

“Because we disappeared on her,” Dolores said, giving him a surprised look, “surely you thought that she’d worry?”

Five gave a noncommittal shrug, causing her to frown, “of course she would,” the girl told him empathetically, “so we’ll go back to the Academy since that’s probably where she’ll look, then we’ll make a pitstop and go shopping.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone, if you celebrate! (If you don't, happy Wednesday!) (this is a long note, sorry!) 
> 
> So, this series will inevitably come to a conclusion after I finish the last episode of S2 as we wait for S3 (yes, I will write for as many seasons as TUA has.) I wanted to know if you guys would be interested in reading a Ben Hargreeves x OC work (the OC would NOT be a Hargreeves.) I didn't know if this was a "strictly" Five Hargreeves crowd and I should keep the idea I have just to just Wattpad or if you guys would be interested in it, too. Also, this would help shorten the gap wait between the end of S2 and the start of S3.
> 
> I'm really excited about this fic, though I definitely wouldn't start until after this series went on hiatus. I'm honestly super proud of the idea and can't stop thinking about it. It would be a stand-alone work and be around 15 chapters. I'll warn you guys now that it DOESN'T have a happy ending and is super angsty. I'm still working on a title since the one I had is too cheerful for the plot I came up with.
> 
> Indigo Blue (her name makes more sense when you learn about her family) is my OC and I absolutely love her. It's kind of got _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ vibes as it's partially inspired by it. 
> 
> So, the main question is: would you guys have an interest in reading a fanfic that isn't Five x OC?


	5. Fashion Disaster

The pair returned to the Umbrella Academy a short while later, finding themselves in Five’s room as they waited for Vanya to make her appearance. Now that her embarrassment about their new ages had subsided, Dolores was able to take in more details about her husband’s bedroom. It was quite obvious it hadn’t been used since he’d left, with the childish wallpaper and single, small bed. There were also a surprising amount of toys strewn around the room, as if he’d just finished playing with them. A train sitting on the boy’s desk caught her eye and the brunette made her way over to it, placing her hand on the top as she wheeled it back and forth, “I never knew you were into trains,” she observed, her voice teasing.

Five rolled his eyes, “please, Dolly, that’s from when I was four.”

“Still, it’s cute. You don’t exactly strike me as the _toys_ type if you know what I mean.”

The boy turned away from her and looked out the window, stuffing his hands into his pockets to hide his embarrassment, “shut up,” he mumbled, though it was no where near as harsh as when he said the same words to his siblings.

Dolores couldn’t help the small smile that flickered across her face as she pictured her husband as the little boy he’d truly been once upon a time. It was easy to picture a younger version of the Five she knew spending time hiding out in his room, sequestered away from his noisy siblings. She _almost_ ‘awwed’ as she imagined the familiar scowl on _her_ Five’s face copied onto the child-version of him. There wasn’t much she knew about his early years- only things she’d learned from brief snippets into his past- but it wasn’t hard to imagine him as a grumpy child, the only difference between then and now being his age.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed about,” she told him lightly, though her voice was _clearly_ amused, “like I said, it’s cute.”

Vanya’s voice sounded from the lower floors before he had a chance to respond, “Five? Five- oh, thank god,” this last part was said when she entered the boy’s room, “I was worried sick about you.”

As the boy turned to face his sister, he caught the brunette’s smug _I-told-you-so_ look. He rolled his eyes as he said, “sorry I left without saying goodbye.”

“No, look, I’m the one that should be sorry” Vanya apologized, “yeah, I was dismissive and I- I guess I didn’t know how to process what you were saying, and I still can’t, to be honest.”

“Maybe you were right to be dismissive,” the boy sighed, “maybe it wasn’t real after all,” he turned, glancing at the brunette watching them from the bed, “I still don’t know how that explains Dolly, though. She _is_ real. Maybe some parts were and others were… imagined. Like you said, the old man did say time travel could contaminate the mind.”

“Then maybe I’m not the right person for you to be talking to,” his sister suggested, “look, I used to see someone. A therapist. I could give you her information-“

Dolores’ warning rang in his ears: _be nice_. “Thanks, but I think I’m just gonna get some rest. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a good sleep.”

“Okay,” the dark-haired woman agreed before walking out of the room.

As soon as his sister left, Five turned to Dolores expectantly, causing the brunette to roll her eyes in amusement. Pushing herself up from the bed, she closed the space between them and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, “that was extremely passable.”

“Only passable? I thought I did an outstanding job.”

“You got a little tense at the _therapist_ mention and you were a bit cold when you were talking about me.”

“Well, can you blame me?” the boy asked with a huff, “it’s not exactly _easy_ when someone claims that the person you love isn’t real.”

Dolores’ expression softened and she caught his hand in hers which was quickly followed by three consecutive squeezes, “well, in that case that was an A-plus performance. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Unfortunately Griddy’s is now a crime scene, but I think I have a decent substitute in mind,” the brunette said with a faint smile. As she led him out of the room, she added, “and for the record, I love you too.”

\--

The coffee shop they next stopped at was a more modern version of the one they had frequented as kids. It had a very cramped- but somehow still roomy- feel with couches and low tables instead of booths and chairs. It had a very _brown_ aesthetic with similarly colored metropolitan paintings on the walls and brown-colored books on the bookshelves. Instead of being dark and dingy, however, the large, glass windows that looked out onto the street and adjacent outdoor seating area let in plenty of light.

There was a college-aged barista working at the counter and she hardly batted an eye at their seemingly unorthodox order of black coffee and everything-but-the-kitchen sink. After paying with money Five had left over from the sixties- Dolores hoped no one would notice- they found one of the comfortable couches by the window and sat down.

“I’m assuming there’s a story behind this place, too?” Five asked, taking in the décor, “it looks more like a shit hole than Griddy’s does, and that’s saying something.”

The brunette _tried_ to be mad at him- she really did- but she couldn’t fight the amused smile that crept on to her face, “this is where Sam, Brittany and Eric would come after their shifts,” she explained, “they were all older than me and liked pretending they were _mature_ for their age so they hung out with the college crowd, or tried to. Everyone here’s too tired and stressed to care that people who look like high schoolers are ordering odd beverages.”

The boy eyed a few of the college students diligently typing away on some of the nearby tables, “why didn’t we come here first?”

“It closes around seven,” she answered promptly, “besides, I didn’t want it to be shot up. When we _do_ save the world, I’m not going to be the one dealing with a grumpy Brittany,” she paused, looking thoughtful, “you know, now that I think about it, Brittany was my first version of you.”

He turned back the girl and gave her and gave her an amused look, “you had practice?”

“I never thought of it before now, but yeah, I did. Brittany’s very snarky and sarcastic and short-tempered, and she loves coffee. I would _not_ want her coming to work without it.”

“Why don’t you try mentioning some of my good qualities?”

The brunette laughed, “which are…?” she prompted teasingly, causing the boy to huff.

“My quick wit and amazing charm. I _am_ a genius, after all.”

“Right,” she answered dryly, though her expression grew thoughtful again, “Brittany _did_ act as though she hated her brother, but I know she loved him,” she left the _like how you treat your siblings_ unsaid, though Five still unusually fast sips of his coffee to hide his discomfort.

With his mouth still burning slightly, the boy set down the ceramic mug and quickly changed the subject, “so, what’s our plan for the hospital?”

Rolling her eyes at his tactlessness, Dolores drank some of her own coffee before answering, “well, I was thinking we could pretend to be interns from Meritech delivering an order. They’d let us see the files, then. I’m sure they work with the prosthetics company. I mean, it is a hospital.”

“And what if they ask for proof?” Five asked.

The brunette frowned slightly, “I guess we’ll cross that bridge if we come to it. I don’t think it will be an issue, though. We _are_ technically minors, after all. We’re too young to even have a drivers’ license. I could maybe find my school one if we made a trip to my house, though.”

“We’d run the risk of bumping in to your other self,” the boy pointed out, “we’ve done fine so far and you’ve even stopped sweating, mostly. I don’t want to increase the odds unless we have to.”

“You could blink in and get it,” Dolores suggested after a moment, “I know exactly where it is.”

“But what if your other self sees me? Or your parents do?”

She gave him a sidelong glance, “are you trying to be difficult?”

“I’m just trying to think of all the possibilities,” the boy retorted.

“We’ll drive ourselves nuts if we try to think of _all_ the possibilities. Besides, with The Commission still probably on our trail, I’d like to _not_ get my family- or past me- involved. If we need proof, we’ll figure it out from there. The important thing, though, is timing. We were too early for Meritech directly-“

“So we should plan to go to the hospital later in the week,” Five agreed, “but we’re not just going to wait around until then, are we?”

“We could watch the building,” the brunette offered, “Meritech, I mean. To see if the prosthetic would be made, and then once we somehow get our answer-“

“We go to the hospital to see who ordered it,” the boy finished, “we could trail that guy you talked to.”

“He seems gullible enough.”

They spent several more hours at the café planning their stakeout. As the angles of sunlight shifted across the room, Dolores herself shifted to follow, cat-like, in their path until she was mostly sprawled over into her husband’s space as she positioned herself farther away from the windows. They’d been sitting in their comfortable, familiar silence for the past several minutes as the girl stared up at the dark ceiling, the smells and sounds of the past world bringing old memories of a long-forgotten life to the surface. Five was staring out into space as well, putting the finishing touches to the details of their plan as his hands absentmindedly rubbing his wife’s shins as they rested in his lap.

Her legs had only shifted slightly, and yet he already knew she had been about to speak as the brunette finally broke their silence, “I’d like you to meet them, you know.”

Her words were so soft he’d almost missed them, and he turned to try and catch her gaze, though her eyes remained focused upwards, “meet who?”

“My parents,” came her simple reply as she tilted her head back down to look at him, “and my uncle. Y’know, once all of this is over. I’ve met your siblings, obviously. My family isn’t as big or special as yours is-“

“That doesn’t matter,” the boy interrupted firmly, “they’re your family. Of course I’ll meet them,” he hesitated before sounding uncharacteristically hesitant as he asked, “d’you think they’ll like me?”

Dolores’ response had equal decisiveness, “of course they will,” her expression turned rueful, “I can’t introduce you as my husband, though. At least, not yet. My mom would have a coronary.”

Five made a face, “boyfriend, then?” he asked, which was followed by a disgusted grimace.

“Definitely _not_ ,” the brunette said emphatically, “we’ll think of another title. That’s way too juvenile for us.”

\--

As the sky darkened, the two were finally forced from their resting spot and out on to the rainy streets as the café closed for the day. They stood under the awning of the shop and Dolores frowned at the drizzle, “well, this isn’t going to be fun.”

The boy rolled his eyes, “are you forgetting who you’re with?” he asked, gripping her hand firmly as they disappeared in a flash of blue.

They blinked into existence in the back of a taxi cab with a very startled driver, though the boy did nothing but encourage him to keep going. The brunette gave him an unimpressed look, causing the boy to huff, “what? At least you didn’t have to get wet.”

“That’s very self-serving of you. You startled the poor man!”

Five gave her an unimpressed look, “my powers _are_ self-serving and he’s fine.”

“Whatever,” the brunette said in a very teenager fashion, though she looked out the window to hide her amused expression.

The cab stopped a short while later at the boy’s prompting and he gave the driver the last of the sixties money he had on him, mostly to appease his wife. He quickly took her hand again to blink them under the cover of the store he’d chosen for their “shopping spree” to avoid getting more wet than strictly necessary.

Dolores, of course, recognized the store front instantly and paled considerably, “Fives, why-“

“I thought you might like to see it,” the boy offered, shifting slightly, “y’know, in case we don’t save the world? And besides,” his tone grew more confident, “all of the other shops are closed and you know the layout by heart. It’s not like we’re even stealing, anyway.”

The brunette swallowed thickly past the lump in her throat. She hadn’t been expecting to see the store so soon, especially with her past-self hanging out there so often. It had been _decades_ since she’d been inside, but the funny thing was, she knew it would be exactly the same. Time was odd like that. Even though it had been _years_ for her, the store itself hadn’t had any time to get a new look, to change at all. Things were supposed to be different when you returned home after years away. They were supposed to smell different, look different, sound different, but in her entire second experience in 2019 so far, the only thing that had changed was… _her_.

Dolores was certain that stepping (or blinking) inside the shop was almost more daunting than surviving another year of the apocalypse. At least with the second option, she was on familiar ground. The world around her _had_ changed and adapted with her. Here, she was also on recognizable territory, but _she_ was the stranger. Would it be everything she remembered it as? Had her memory dulled over the years? (Of course it had because that’s what happened to memories.)

Next to her, Five stood still as he frowned, “I thought you would’ve liked coming back,” he said, a slight note of disappointment in his voice, “we can go-“

“It’s fine,” the brunette interrupted him, though her words got caught in her throat. She coughed, “it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she answered as she tried to smile brightly at him (she was a few degrees off the mark), “I’d have to go inside sometime. At least it’ll be easier without the lights on.”

“We can-“ the boy tried again, but Dolores reached down for his hand and gave it three firm squeezes, cutting him off as he sighed, “alright.”

In a second, they were inside the shop. The entire store was dark, the computer monitors and security cameras turned off. Racks of clothes stood neatly along the isles, waiting for customers to purchase them. Non-clothing items that were stored upfront for last-minute grabs were stacked smartly on the shelves. Dolores’ breath caught in her throat.

_It was exactly how she remembered it._

“This is it, then?” the boy asked quietly, not wanting to disturb the silence. (A rather stupid question, really. Of _course_ this was it.)

“Yeah,” Dolores murmured, her body completely still though her eyes never stopped taking in the slightly obscured settings.

Five left her side for a moment to grab a flashlight before returning as he flicked it on, “so, where to?”

“I’ll be fast, so I think the woman’s section,” the brunette answered, her voice still a hushed whisper, “it should be four hundred fifty-three steps from the door.”

He blinked at the number. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since Dolores had used this peculiar gift of hers and it surprised him when she easily spouted it out. Of _course_ she’d counted the distance of the entire store. The last time he’d heard her count had been… 2030? Five was certain she hadn’t even thought of it while they were in The Commission. (She had, though it had been seemingly inconsequential at the time.)

The boy took her hand and led her down the aisle as she turned her head this way and that trying to take in everything she remembered. As they passed the racks, the girl brushed her fingers against the once-familiar feel of different fabrics. She could remember passing the time as she counted the number of items each rack held, the amount of boxes waiting to be unpacked, the remaining items in their supply. She’d been an amazing help with inventory and her ability to keep everything straight. To this day, she still didn’t know why Brittany always complained about that certain aspect of the job. She found it quite enjoyable.

They were approaching the expected junction of several aisles now, which was almost to their destination at three hundred nineteen steps. A group of mannequins stood- or sat- proudly on the display, each wearing a different outfit. One of the models off to the side with dull red hair was wearing the exact same outfit that past-Dolores would be wearing in a few days’ time- a long-sleeved, v-necked white shirt with large, black polka dots, fit jeans and a beret.

There was a blank, white space at the very front of the display that might fit a fifteen-year-old girl. With a fond smile of remembrance, Dolores made a flashy turn on her heel before sitting with exaggerated grace. Five watched her with a bemused expression until she explained, with her legs crossed and chin resting on her fist, “this is the exact position I would have when I pretended to be a mannequin. Then I’d jump up and scare customers.”

A huff of laughter escaped from the boy, “you’re ridiculous.” 

“I’m amusing,” she countered, earning a look of fond exasperation from her husband.

He lowered the flashlight slightly so it wasn’t shining into her eyes at her new level, his expression softening as he took in her teasing one, “Dolly,” he said, his voice quieting as he stepped towards her.

The boy placed the flashlight down next to the girl and gently nudged her legs apart so her could stand between them. His hands lightly curved around her face as he tilted her head up, his thumbs gently brushed against her face, “yeah?” the brunette asked, breathless. (She almost had to thank her newly-acquired teenage hormones, really.)

“Dolly, I-“ movement caught his attention and his tender expression turned into one of wide-eyed horror as he quickly released her face, a terrified “ _no_!” escaping his mouth as he wrapped his arms around the girl, blinking them out of line of sudden fire.

Startled by their sudden change, Dolores clung to her husband as he ducked them behind one of their clothing racks, making sure to tuck her form underneath his just in case. He peered out between the clothes as the brunette tried to get her bearings again. The two gunmen made steady progress down the aisle they had come up, unaware that their targets were out of sight.

“Shit, it’s them,” Five breathed to the girl huddled underneath him, who immediately understood what he meant.

As Dolores recovered from her shock of almost being blown to pieces, she grabbed the boy’s arms and wrapped them more tightly around her. She felt his lips brush against her ear as he whispered, “Dolly, I have to go.”

“But-“

“I’ll be right back for you. I promise.”

Reluctantly, she released her grip on his arms and allowed Five to gently lower her to the ground as he quickly repositioned her limbs to his liking in a similar style she’d used to huddle under the counter at Griddy’s. After placing a brief kiss to the top of her head, he took off down the aisle.

Dolores wasn’t sure how much time had passed until she next saw him again, but every light flare from the guns sent her heart pounding in her chest and any flash of color that could possibly be blue made her squeeze her eyes shut. _What she wouldn’t give for a extremely dirty room to clean right now_. Five reappeared then, but not with the telltale feel of his power- he ran up to her and grabbed her wrist, tugging the girl to her feet as they ducked beneath the racks.

The gunfire was still sounding frequently over their heads, but the brunette knew better than to question whatever plan the boy had come up with. While words and PR situations were _her_ strength, it was an unspoken agreement that she would _never_ question Five during one of these situations. This knowledge helped him keep peace of mind and to stay focused on their escape.

They rounded the corner to one of the rows and she felt the air particles ionize around them as Five tried to jump, but something resisted against his powers and they stayed in the same place. Dolores turned anxiously to watch as the gunmen steadily approached while the boy tried to blink again to no use. Glancing up towards the front, they came to a mutual decision to run towards the barrier, the boy making sure to help the girl up first before quickly following her over the edge.

An explosion followed their path and caused the brunette to lurch against the boy’s side as his arm went instinctively around her waist. The bright beams from the flashlights shown into their eyes as police sirens sounded from outside, causing everyone’s attention to be distracted. Using the opportunity to their advantage, Five quickly ushered the girl to one of the check-out lanes to pretend to “blink.”

The girl collapsed on the boy’s lap, curling up against her husband’s chest as she clung to him tightly, unable to stop her hands from shaking. She could feel the heat radiating off of him from the amount of energy he’d exerted, but it didn’t stop her from curling up against him as her mind reeled with the fact that her family’s store, the one place she’d _always_ thought would be safe, was no longer so.

\--

Somehow, they’d managed to avoid the police and made their way back to the Academy in a tense, worried silence. Her husband had refused to let go of her hand and Dolores had no complaints, still shaken from the events at the store.

As they made their way up the academy stairs, two of Five’s siblings- Dolores was in no state to remember which ones they were- were at the top and turned to look at the disheveled pair in concern, “Five? Are you okay?”

“Can we help?” the man asked, reaching towards the pale-faced brunette.

Five’s hand immediately shot out to capture his brother’s arm in a firm grip, “there’s _nothing_ you can do. There’s nothing _any_ of you can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy (early) New Year everyone! 
> 
> I've decided on my Ben Hargreeves x OC story title and it will be called 𝕯𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑𝖞 𝕯𝖊𝖕𝖆𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖉 (in that exact font. There's just something about it that fits in so well with the vibe of the story.) 
> 
> Like I said before, though, this won't be posted for a long while since I want to "finish" (go on hiatus until s3) this series first and then I'll probably take a break before starting any more TUA fics. I've got a few other stories going on wattpad that I want to focus on once this is done, so we're probably looking at late 2021.


	6. Family Matters

When Dolores woke the next morning, she was relieved she hadn’t been up during the night. With the state of mind she’d been in after the attack in _her_ store, she would’ve certainly gone straight to _homicidal rage_ if she’d encountered her younger self traipsing around the Academy. As it was, she got up and began to dress for the new day, trying not to feel too self-conscious about how avidly Five was watching her.

When she’d finally donned the last part of the uniform- her jacket- she turned to her husband, who had yet to get out of bed. She rolled her eyes, “c’mon, get up.”

The boy slowly got out of bed, smirking slightly, “you know, I was hoping we could stay in bed a little longer.”

“We have a world to save, or did you forget that?” she shot back, ducking her head to hide her pink face, “besides, this uniform has _way_ too many layers for me to take on and off again.”

Five paused in dressing, only wearing his shorts and undershirt as he stepped towards the brunette, concern clearly on his face, “you were pretty shaken up last night, Dolly,” he said quietly, taking her hands in his, “how are you feeling?”

The girl raised her head and sighed, “better, now. I certainly wasn’t expecting The Commission to find us so quickly, or at my store. I’ll be fine,” she finished firmly.

“Are you-“ the boy started, wanting to make sure she would _truly_ be alright.

Dolores interrupted him first, her eyes widening, “you’re hurt!”

“It’s-“

“ _Don’t_ say it’s nothing,” she said, glaring at him slightly, “it’s _not_ nothing. Wait here, I’ll help.”

When she returned, she found him sitting his bed. She sat next to him, her brows furrowed as she concentrated on cleaning the wound. The brunette set about cleaning up the injury as Five watched her bite her lip as she focused, his gaze never leaving her mouth until she turned to thread the needle for stitches.

“Don’t look,” the brunette said once she was finished.

“Dolly-“

“I _know_ you’re not afraid, but it’ll only make it hurt worse if you do,” Dolores said, feeling the guilt that she hadn’t been able to protect him like she was _supposed_ to.

Five sighed, knowing that she would be stubborn about this, “it’s only psychology,” he complained as he looked away.

“It makes _me_ feel better,” she answered, which halted any further objections. 

“Hey,” Five said, capturing the girl’s attention for a moment. The brunette looked up at him, the guilt on her face causing a painful twist in his chest, “I’m alright, Dol. Don’t worry.”

She gave him a fond smile, “telling me not to worry is like telling the rain to stop falling, Fives. It’s impossible. I worry because I love you.”

They both knew she hated it when he got hurt- as much as he hated it when _she_ got hurt- and he wished he could convince her it wasn’t her fault. Instead, he leaned down, careful not to move his mostly-stitched arm and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Dolores relaxed slightly against him, some of the worry dissipating.

When he pulled away, he gave her a affectionate look, “I love you too, Dol.”

\--

Once they’d finished dressing for the day, Five helped the brunette out of the window and they made their way down the fire escape where Klaus was shifting through trash in the dumpster. The boy had gone down the ladder first and as Dolores neared the ground, he put one of his hands on her back and the other on her arm to help steady her as she jumped to the ground. When both feet were solidly planted on the cement, the hand on her back turned into an arm around her waist as he finally addressed his brother, “I’d ask what you’re doing, Klaus, but then it occurred to me. I don’t care.”

“Hey, you know there are easier ways out of the house, Bonnie and Clyde?” Klaus asked, looking up from whatever he was searching for.

“This one involved the least amount of talking, or so I thought,” Five said, rolling his eyes, “and never call us that again.”

“Alright, Sonny and Cher,” he answered with a grin. As the pair turned to walk away, he called after them, “hey, hey, hey, you two need any company? I could clear my schedule.”

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full,” the boy said disdainfully.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just-“ he stopped talking to fall backwards into the dumpster, “I just misplaced something, that’s all,” he lifted a half-eaten bagel from the pile, “oh! Found it, thank god!” he took a bite out of it, “delicious.”

Dolores grimaced. While they’d eaten worse food in the apocalypse, it hadn’t been done so _willingly_ , “we’re good, Klaus. Thanks,” she made an effort to be nicer to him than Five was.

“Come on! You don’t- maybe I just want to hang out with my brother and his wife!” Klaus called after them as the attempted to leave again, “ _mi hermano! Mi hermana!_ ”

The brunette tried not to feel _too_ pleased with Klaus calling her “his sister.” Instead she turned back around, “sister-in-law!” she corrected him.

“I don’t know how to say ‘in-law’ in Spanish!” he yelled back at her.

“Ignore him,” Five muttered in her ear, opening the passenger door of a nearby van for her.

“I love you!” Klaus said, not minding that they weren’t paying attention to him, “even if you can’t love yourself!”

Five climbed into the driver’s side and started the engine.

\--

Silence filled the van as the couple sat in the two front seats, both of their gazes fixed on the building across from them. Without taking his eyes off the building, Five reached over and gently grasped the brunette’s hand, intertwining their fingers together and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. In return, Dolores gave her traditional three back to him.

They watched as the doctor from the other day- Dr. Biggs- walked up to his building to start his day of work. A part of Dolores was envious of his ignorance to the fast-approaching end of the world. She _almost_ wished that neither she nor Five knew about it, though many things would be different if they were as oblivious as the rest of the popluation.

Sometimes she liked to think about what would’ve happened if Five had never time travelled and they didn’t have an apocalypse to stop. She would’ve grown up a normal child and held a normal job. She probably would’ve had a normal boyfriend at some point and maybe even gotten married. Five would have been fifteen years older than her, the gap too large between them to even be anywhere close to friends. She probably would’ve never met him anyway with the fame he’d gain from being in the Academy. He probably would’ve gotten married to someone else (a thought that made her stomach turn) or he’d live by himself. Dolores had no idea what kind of job he’d have, though. Maybe something to do with physics.

Dolores was drawn out of her thoughts as she felt something _shift_ in the air. It wasn’t anything particularly noticeable but it made her freeze for a second to find the source of the change. As her gaze fell on the boy next to her, she realized how stiff he’d gotten. The hand holding hers was almost painfully tight and she could hear the boy’s breath hitching slightly in the silence of the car. Immediately, she knew what was going on.

Back when they were in The Commission and adjusting to their new surroundings, they’d have flashbacks of being stuck in the apocalypse. Something- a noise, a motion, a smell- would trigger a part of their memory and either one of them would get sent back to the end of the world. They’d been lucky that neither of them had ever been affected at the same time, so they were always able to help each other. Five had gone back to the past more frequently than she had and usually at night in the form of a nightmare. They didn't really talk about what they saw when they went back but focused on pulling the other to the present.

“Fives?” Dolores asked softly, squeezing his hand. She always tried to just use his name first. When there was no response, she said it again more forcefully, “Fives?”

When he continued to stare out at nothing, the brunette gently pried her hand free from his and pushed the armrest of her seat up. She then crawled carefully over the console to curl up in the boy’s lap, her back pressed against the car door and her heels pushing into the side of the seat. Slowly- taking care not to move too fast and startle him- she cupped his face with her hands, gently brushing her thumbs over his cheeks, “Fives,” she tried again, “I’m right here, it’s okay. We’re not _there_ ,” she made sure to never use the word “apocalypse,” especially in this situation, “come back to the present.”

There was still no reaction, though she thought his breathing was more even. Continuing to gently hold his face between her hands, she leaned forward and softly placed her lips on his, not moving them like she would in a normal kiss, but just allowing him to feel the warmth and pressure to bring him back to _now_.

While she kept her eyes closed, she felt the boy relax suddenly underneath her, his hands sliding down to her waist and he began to kiss her back. The brunette knew he wanted to continue, but she pulled away before they could go any further. Giving the boy a concerned look, she opened her mouth to ask something along the lines of _are you okay_? (Which she knew was a stupid question but she didn’t know how else to phrase it.)

Dolores was interrupted, however, by Luther knocking on the car door and calling, “Five! Five!”

She sighed, not wanting to deal with Five’s idiot brother right now. She was far more worried about her husband and she knew he would never be truthful with how he was feeling when his siblings were around. Instead, she leaned her head against his shoulder and took his hand into her lap to play with his fingers as Luther forced the door open and squeezed himself inside. She was cheered slightly when a sound from the back of the van made her crane her head to see Klaus shoving cans out of the way. At least _this_ idiot brother was also nice.

“You okay?” Luther asked, looking at the girl curled up on his brother’s lap. Even _he_ could see something wasn’t right in his brother’s face.

“You shouldn’t be…” Five started before he asked, “how did you find me?”

“We’ve been searching for _hours_ ,” Klaus exclaimed, dramatically throwing himself between the two seats. He grinned at the brunette, “hey Mickey and Minnie.”

Almost against her will, Dolores giggled, “are you gonna call us every famous duo?”

“You bet I am!”

“You’re gonna run out of names, Klaus,” she said with a grin.

“Then I’ll make them up, Peanut Butter and Chocolate,” his words were cut off as he screamed, ducking past the can that Five threw at him.

“Get out!” the boy exclaimed, “you can’t be here! We’re in the middle of something.”

“Sorry, did we interrupt your make-out session?” Klaus teased, “you could certainly use some loosening up, old man.”

“Shut _up_ Klaus,” Five snapped while Dolores turned pink.

“What’s he talking about?” Luther asked cluelessly.

“Does it matter? It’s Klaus,” the boy retorted, earning a gentle elbow in the stomach from his wife (she was more cautious because of his recent flashback.) He turned to his other brother, “what do you want, Luther?”

“Um,” he said hesitantly, “Grace may have had something to do with Dad’s death.”

Dolores sighed, closing her eyes again as she rested her forehead against the curve of Five’s neck. She really wasn’t in the mood to be dealing with conspiracy theories when the end-of-the-world one turned out to be true.

“This is important. I need you to come back to the Academy,” Luther said, looking directly at Five.

“It’s important,” Five repeated, scoffing, “you have no concept of what’s _important_ ,” the supporting arm around his wife’s waist tightened slightly.

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted suddenly, “did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding? It was so painful!” he beamed at the brunette, who couldn’t hold back the single giggle that escaped her mouth. Klaus’ randomness was really quite refreshing.

“What are you still doing here?” Luther asked him condescendingly, causing Dolores to frown at him.

“What? I need an excuse to hang out with my family?” his brother pressed a hand to his heart dramatically.

“We’re trying to have a serious conversation.”

“What, and I’m incapable of being serious? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Luther’s got a point,” the boy agreed, “you should get out.”

“ _Five_ -“ Dolores started, her tone gently reprimanding despite what occurred just before his brothers arrived.

“See? Dolly wants me to stay!”

Immediately, Five twisted around and glared furiously at his brother, “ _don’t_ call her that,” he snapped.

“Why not? _You_ can call her that!”

“Exactly,” Five said flatly, “ _only_ I can call her that. You can’t, so get out.”

Klaus pouted at the brunette, who sighed, “I’m sorry, Klaus. You know how he gets,” she gestured to the boy.

“Fine,” he huffed, slamming the door to the van shut.

Almost the instant he was gone, Five relaxed underneath her, his grip on her waist loosening. Dolores rolled her eyes at his protectiveness of her in front of his brothers.

“What the hell are you two up to?” Luther demanded.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family and your little girlfriend isn’t part of it.”

“No, Five’s right,” Dolores said before her husband could jump in at the “family” or “girlfriend” digs, “last I checked, my physical age is still greater than your IQ. You _wouldn’t_ understand.”

There was a strange bark and for a second, Dolores thought there was a dog in the car. It was only when she turned to look in the back did she catch a glimpse of Five’s face, which looked both amused and proud at her taunt and she realized he’d _laughed_. It had been a short, sharp sound but it made her straighten smugly in the boy’s lap while Luther just looked confused.

Five leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to his wife’s cheek, making a mental note to reward her for the insult later, “and last _I_ checked, we’re still twenty-eight years older than you,” he added.

“That still doesn’t make your little girlfriend part of the family,” his brother retorted, “you wanna know what your problem is?”

The boy let the “family” dig go for now, though he wouldn’t easily forget it, “I’m really hoping you’ll tell me,” he said through clenched teeth. It helped that Dolores curled up more tightly against him, sensing his annoyance. He forced himself to relax.

“You think you’re better than us,” he said, “you always have, even when we were kids.”

“That’s because he is,” Dolores said, causing Luther’s eyes to flash with annoyance. Five squeezed her hand, appreciating the support but also knowing it would only make his brother stay longer.

“But the truth is,” he continued, ignoring the brunette, “you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have and you know it.”

“I don’t _think_ I’m better than you, Number One. I _know_ I am,” the boy shot back, “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend, just to get back here and save you all. And Dolores isn’t my girlfriend, she’s my wife.” Okay, maybe he couldn’t ignore the insult after all.

Luther scoffed, “don’t you think fifteen is a little young to be married?”

The brunette rolled her eyes, not even wanting to bother correcting Five’s idiot brother. Still, she answered, “don’t you think thirty is a little young to still be a virgin?”

There was a huff of amusement that came from her husband as Luther gave her another irritated look, “I’ve had just about enough-“

He was- thankfully- interrupted when his brother ran out of the nearby Mini Mart, his arms full of groceries, “whoo!” he yelled, running down the street. A few of the bags fell out of his arms as he tried to get away.

A policeman ran after him, “stop! Hey! Stop right now!”

Words wouldn’t stop Klaus and he continued to run across the street, “hey, bitches!” he called with a grin.

“You, get back here!”

As he crossed the road, a taxi cab drove towards him and tried to avoid him, though the man still managed to run into it, “out of the way, asshole!” he exclaimed, running up to the van and opening the back door.

“Now I’m starting to wonder if coming back was the wisest decision,” Five commented dryly as they watched the scene.

\--

Luther finally left them, taking Klaus with him back to the Academy once he realized that Five wasn’t going to come with him. The sun was almost setting when they spoke again, “are you okay?” the boy asked, looking down at the brunette curled up in his lap.

Dolores tilted her head to meet his eyes, her gaze soft, “I should be the one asking _you_ that,” she countered quietly, “you-“

“I’m fine,” the boy interrupted briskly, flicking his eyes away to look at the window, his muscles tightening as he tensed slightly. He looked down again, however, when he felt the girl’s fingers gently trace over his jaw.

“Please don’t shut me out,” the brunette pleaded quietly, “I’m on your side, you know that, right?”

Five forced himself to relax, “of course I know that,” he told her firmly, making sure to meet her eyes, “I just don’t like talking about it.”

“I know,” Dolores admitted, “just… promise me you’ll tell me if it gets worse?”

The boy brought both of his hands into her lap so she could see that he wasn’t crossing his fingers as he said, “I promise.”

Appeased for now, the brunette leaned her head against his shoulder and turned to look out the window with him, her fingers reaching to fidget with his, “we’re running out of time,” she said worriedly, almost _feeling_ the seconds they spent in the van slipping through her fingers.

“You know you don’t have to tell me that,” Five said with a sigh, “I know there are only six days left.”

“It- it just feels like we’re wasting time,” the brunette admitted, her gaze fixed on the dark, empty building.

“Well, you got a better idea while we wait to check the hospital?”

“No.”

“Okay then,” there was a pause before the boy straightened, “there’s our guy.”

They watched the doctor wait at the side of the curb before a car pulled up. He bent to open the door, seeming to pick something up. He then closed it again and the car drove off. 

“What the hell is he up to?”

\--

Not too far away, the two assassins from The Commission held up a piece of paper with the symbol of a circle inscribed with an umbrella in the middle. A matching emblem was shown wrought in iron on the gates in front of a large building and the doors leading inside. At best, they expected nobody to be there, perhaps a maid or some other low-ranking worker. At worst, they expected their targets to have laid a series of traps for them to throw their pursuers off the mark. Most likely, it would be the latter.

What they _weren’t_ expecting, however, was to come face-to-face with a knife-wielding man. It certainly didn’t help that they were caught by surprise a woman joined their opponent, or when a particularly large man sent Hazel flying halfway across the room.

“Who the _hell_ are these guys?”

\--

To say Cha-Cha was in a terrible mood was an understatement. Her partner stopping to get a _jelly doughnut_ certainly didn’t improve matters and she wasn’t afraid to take her temper out on him, “after _everything_ we’ve been through?”

“Well, I needed some comfort food after that disaster,” he answered mildly, still chewing.

“Well, tonight’s a total loss,” she sniped, her hand reaching into the ice bucket to care for her wounds.

The bearded man turned his head lazily to look at her, “oh, I’m not so sure about that.”

Interest- and desperation- prompted them to walk out to the car immediately, Hazel taking immense pleasure in opening the trunk to show off his success. They both looked into the back of the car to see a man wearing a towel, handcuffed with duct tape, curled up in the small space.

He wasn't all that was in there, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I forget that yesterday was Wednesday? Maybe, maybe not. I'll never tell. 
> 
> (Yes I did- sorry guys! At least there are only six days between updates this week though, right?)


	7. 'Cause Something Inside Has Changed

Dolores Hargreeves woke with a pounding headache.

She was still curled up on Five’s lap so their sleeping positions hadn’t been ideal but her headache wasn’t from that. Her dreams had been chaotic, with the sound of bullets a constant rhythm and the feeling of fear prominent throughout. It hadn’t been a _nightmare_ , exactly. It had felt too real for that. She could vividly remember the walls of the Academy present in her dream, the feeling of a book’s spine under her fingers, the surprised face of the man she now knew as Klaus Hargreeves, who’d been dressed in only a towel. Then a large man with a terrifying mask had appeared and the rest of her dream had been black, until a door had opened to reveal the same scary mask-wearing people. The brunette squeezed her eyes shut, whimpering slightly at the feeling of her head seeming to split in two.

At the pained sound, Five jerked awake, his eyes moving quickly over the van to land on his wife, whose scrunched-up face was a clear sign that everything was not as it should be, “Dolly?” he asked, worry evident in his tone.

The girl shook her head, her eyes scrunching further as she turned to press her face into the rough fabric of his jacket, “hurts,” she whispered.

“What hurts?” the boy’s tone was urgent and slightly commanding. He couldn’t _help_ if he didn’t know what was wrong.

“Head,” came the short response.

“Headache?” there was a brief nod and he relaxed. Headaches were curable, “I can get something from that convenience store Klaus stole from,” he decided, remembering to keep his tone quiet so it wouldn’t grate on her ears.

Dolores’ arms tightened around his waist, “don’t go,” she pleaded, not wanting to deal with the sudden influx of a great deal of pain alone. It _seriously_ felt like someone had used a cleaver to saw her head in half.

“Dolly,” Five said patiently, though the worry returned, “I’ll be right back.”

A quiet sob escaped- unwillingly- from the girl that tugged at his heart, prompting him to do something _now_ , “please, Dol, you’ll feel better.”

Reluctantly, the girl relaxed her arms from the boy’s waist and he quickly disappeared in a flash of blue, wanting to return to her as quickly as possible. As he grabbed the items he needed, Five couldn’t help but think anxiously about his wife’s current state. Thanks to the apocalypse, they both had a high tolerance for pain. To have Dolores reduced to nearly _tears_ because of a headache meant that she was almost in _agony_. Short sentences from a person who highly valued words was also concerning, which only supported his conclusion that she was in more than just _discomfort_.

He reappeared in the driver’s seat minutes later, a bottle of water and aspirin in his hands as Dolores’ arms returned to the original position and she buried her face in his jacket once again. Dumping out three of the pills- since she did seem to need them- he unscrewed the water bottle’s cap, “I’m going to need you to take these for me, okay, Dolly?”

There was a fraction of a nod, so he carefully positioned the first pill at the girl’s lips once she turned her head. With a surprising amount of patience on his part, Five slowly fed the brunette the pills and then prompted her to drink the water. Once she’d done as he asked, her head immediately turned back to press against the rough fabric. They sat in silence after that, the boy gently rubbing her back as he tried to soothe the pain away. He wasn’t sure if he was helping, though, since she still let out the occasional whimper.

It was taking all of his self-control not to ask what was wrong since it was _clearly_ more than just a headache. Firing questions at her wouldn’t help her feel better, though, so he made a list in his head of what he wanted to ask once the pills kicked in. At that thought, the boy looked down to check on his wife. There was no change.

His concern only heightened when he saw their target exit the nearby building, a dog tucked under his arm. The boy’s gaze turned back to the brunette, then almost immediately up to where the man was approaching his car.

“He’s there, isn’t he?” Dolores’ muffled voice asked. She’d felt the sudden shift of Five’s posture from being solely focused on her to suddenly anxious and distracted.

“Yeah, but we’ll catch him another time,” what was more worrying was that she wasn’t feeling _better_.

The brunette certainly didn’t _want_ her husband to leave, not when she could barely open her eyes without feeling nauseous, but they couldn’t risk it; the hospital was their only other option and they’d be closing in on the apocalypse by the time they searched there, “go,” she whispered quietly, making an effort to look up at him, “look, I’m feeling better already.”

Truthfully, opening her eyes made fuzzy black spots appear in her vision and her stomach turn sickeningly, but he’d focus better if he didn’t leave half his mind in the van with her, “I’ll be here when you get back, it’ll be fine,” she said reassuringly, noticing the boy’s unconvinced expression.

“Dolly-“

The brunette released her arms from his waist and pushed off him, “ _go_ ,” she repeated more forcefully.

Five took in the girl’s pale, slightly sweaty face and too-bright eyes, but she was clearly trying hard to convince him despite her pitiful efforts. He opened his mouth to protest, but she gave him a surprisingly stern look despite her sudden frailty, so he sighed and pressed his lips to her forehead for a moment before pulling away, “I’ll be back before you know it,” he promised, disappearing in a flash of blue.

It was funny, really, that she’d been so adamant that he _stay_ moments ago, when he could get something to help her, but when _he_ wanted to stay, she made him leave. She could be absolutely ridiculous like that sometimes and Five didn’t think he would ever be truly able to understand her. That didn’t matter, though; the loops she put him through was one of the many reasons why he loved her.

\--

The time between Five’s disappearance and the van’s next visitors seemed to stretch into infinity. The splitting pain never ceased despite the aspirin that Five had given her and Dolores’ mind continued to be plagued by the two creepy masks she’d seen in her dreams. They were no longer looking down at her, though. Shadows distorted them and made them seem more terrifying than they most likely truly were. The fear never left, either. It sent her heart pounding in sync with her head and the roaring of blood in her ears echoed loudly in the silence of the car.

The brunette squeezed into a smaller ball, the memory of a faint, phantasm of pain that seemed like it came from someone else’s life made her eyes squeeze shut. There’d been twinges here and there, like the kind of ache one got from sitting in the same position too long, but there were sharper, cracking feelings too, as if she’d been slapped (in her living memory, though, Dolores could not recall a single time when she’d been hit.)

Inexplicably, Klaus appeared in her mind as well, still wearing the same towel from her dreams. It was red with blood now, his skin coated in the same color, but he seemed entirely unaffected. Then something made him snap. She didn’t understand why, but suddenly he wasn’t nonchalant and unmoved, but desperate and pleading.

A loud knocking from _outside_ her mind made her screw her face up to look out the window, thinking maybe Five was back (which was stupid, really, considering he would’ve blinked in.) A large, unwelcome form stood in his place, the older, blond man knocking repeatedly on the glass. Dolores winced, suddenly relating to aquarium life.

Unable to open the door fast enough, Five’s brother tried to squeeze himself in the van, only for his way to be blocked by Five’s _other_ brother. He turned and glared at the other man, “ _I’m_ Number One.”

 _Right, Luther_ , Dolores thought, making an effort to recall the names of Five’s extensive family, _and that’s… Diego?_

The man she assumed was Diego huffed and opened the sliding door, entering through the back. Unsurprisingly, Luther took charge, “where’s Five?” he asked, his tone brisk and demanding.

“Dunno,” was Dolores’ only answer, forcing her eyes to stay open despite the fact that Luther’s head was taking on abyss-like qualities.

“Five’s barely let you out of his sight since you’ve arrived and I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Well, you should. Five told me you believe everything at face value,” the brunette remarked dryly, wishing she could come up with a better response. Luther’s pretentious tone was _not_ helping what she was now calling a migraine.

Behind her, Diego snorted in amusement, earning a disgusted look from his brother, “why are _you_ here? Did you get into an argument?” the last was asked condescendingly.

“We’re always in an argument, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Look,” Diego broke in, “we just need to talk to Five, do you know when he’ll be back?”

Dolores made an effort to turn and face Five’s second brother. He seemed to be _slightly_ less of an idiot than Luther, though that wasn’t saying much, “no I don’t, sorry,” she tried to sound apologetic, “you can leave a message after the tone, though. Be-“ she winced, her eyes squeezing shut, “never mind, you can try back later.”

“Just tell him we came, yeah?” Diego asked, “we’ll be back later.”

Luther opened his mouth to protest but his brother stopped him, “she’s in no fit state to answer anything, look at her.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, clearly displeased, “we’ll be back.”

Thankfully, the two seemed to somehow have enough sense to leave her alone, though neither bothered with their volume as they slammed the van doors shut, causing Dolores to flinch. The space was immersed in silence once again and, after several long minutes, Dolores was almost willing to say that the pain had dulled slightly, though she didn’t want to get her hopes up. At least there were no _new_ stimuli and all she saw when she closed her eyes was blackness.

After some time had passed, the air particles ionized and the preceding faint breeze that followed Five’s blinks filled the space, the boy reappearing a moment later. Even with the aching pain in her head, Dolores would have to be as brain-dead as Luther to know that wherever the doctor had taken Five, the mission had gone horribly wrong.

\--

Lola Gimbel was terrified.

She should’ve known that borrowing books from a house of superheroes would’ve only ended in disaster, yet her curiosity kept her coming back. _She should’ve listened to her mother._ Now she had been kidnapped, tied up with one of the seven adult-Academy kids in the back of a smelly car, and was in the company of two scary, mask-wearing people who seemed intent on finding the whereabouts of one of the Hargreeves.

The man they’d captured her with, the Séance (she didn’t know his real name) had luckily been their main focus, seeing as he was related to the actual Hargreeves family. While she would never _actually_ wish him harm, of course, he was at least trained for this sort of thing, or so she thought. Any good superhero school _should_ have kidnapping classes as a requirement. She hoped that the masked people would leave them alone so that the Séance would be able to get them out of there (surely he would know, seeing as he’d been trained for this?)

As it was, they were stuck in their current situation: a dingy motel room in a dump of a place that her mother would never set foot in, tied up in two of the four chairs the room provided by duct tape, with a very violent woman and a man whose favorite word was _elaborate_ (he’d already used it fifteen times. Lola had counted.)

In an effort to keep calm, the brunette had taken stock of the rest of the numbers available to her: there were two twin beds, four chairs, one medium-sized round table, one window broken into three panes of glass (which the woman had quickly covered by two curtains), two interrogators, one dresser. After she’d finished counting the objects, Lola then counted the number of questions the pair asked the older man. It had been more than a hundred in total, all variants of _where is Number Five?_ and _what is Number Five doing?_

The Séance was certainly testing their capabilities since he refused to give them answers. A part of her wanted the man to just give them what they wanted so they could leave, but she knew it was a naïve hope. In all of the books she’d read about kidnapping, only the fictional ones let the main character escape; the “based on real life” ones had much grimmer endings.

Hours had passed since they had been first tied up in the chairs and Lola could feel it in the way her legs ached and her arms longed to be stretched. She refused to complain, not wanting to give these… these _villains_ the satisfaction of her discomfort (she also was frightened of drawing their attention to her, though she tried not to think about that.)

The violent woman had taken out a string with two handles on it and at first Lola had been confused as to what it was used for, but it was soon made clear: she’d wrapped the weapon around the Séance’s neck and had begun choking him. It had taken all of her willpower not to cry out in alarm, the only thing stopping her was her greater fear of being noticed.

“Number Five, where is he?” the woman demanded, tightening the cord around the man’s neck.

Lola’s stomach turned at the fresh blood that slowly seeped from the wound as the man gasped, “don’t… _stop_ …. I’m… almost… there…”

She paled. He was almost… _dead_? Was he trying to choke himself to death to save his knowledge? What would she do once he was gone?

As her thoughts continued to whirl in a frantic dance, the woman’s tone suddenly turned disgusted, “is that a….?”

The man answered, his voice closer than before, “yep.”

She let out a repulsed sound and released the man, easing Lola’s worries. At least the Séance wouldn’t leave her yet. The man coughed and gagged as his breathing was returned, “oh… there’s nothin’ like a little…” he glanced over at the girl, abruptly changing his words, “strangling to get the blood flowin’, am I right?”

The brunette gave him a puzzled look but the strange question was quickly forgotten. The man began laughing, causing ‘ _elaborate_ ’ to get up and demand, “what is so funny, _asshole_?”

“Language!” he said, still giggling, “there are little children present!”

He let out a pained sound as he received a sharp _smack_! Lola’s hands tightened into fists against the fast bindings, half wanting to kick him for drawing attention to her. _If he was a superhero, why did he seem so… wimpy?_

As the Séance’s amusement died, he answered the question, “well, for _one_ , you spent the last ten hours beating me _senseless_ and you’ve learned absolutely nothing. I mean, nobody tells me _shit_ ,” he exclaimed, throwing the girl a look before continuing, “I mean, the truth is, I’m the one person in that house nobody will even notice is gone. You assholes kidnapped the wrong guy!”

There was another bout of laughter which earned him another hit, “please make him stop talking,” ‘ _elaborate_ ’ complained.

“Let’s waterboard him,” the woman decided, getting up suddenly and wrapping a towel around the man’s head.

This time, Lola couldn’t stop the _“no_!” that escaped her mouth, fear evident in her tone. Her heart pounded in her chest at the thought of seeing war-time torture in action. _Choking_ and the other methods the pair used had been one thing, but _waterboarding_ was something she’d only read about in history books, never in person (the others had been featured in occasional movies.)

The girl was barely spared a glance, though, as her partner poured a steady stream of water over the Séance’s face. Lola watched with wide, terrified eyes as the man’s gasps turned into gurgles, desperately hoping that he’d come out alright. She shouldn’t have doubted his stamina, though, for once the towel was removed, he sighed, “ah, thank you. I needed that.”

“Come _on_!” the man exclaimed, frustrated.

“I was so… _parched_. Thank you… thank you.”

Lola gave the Séance a worried look, wondering if the man’s head was screwed on completely straight. In all of the hours she’d watched the two try and break him, the man only seemed to laugh in their faces. She was sure that any _normal_ person in this situation- meaning her- would have caved long ago. _Maybe he wasn’t so wimpy after all?_

\--

Hazel and Cha-Cha left their two captives to take a break in the bathroom to discuss a new plan of action. The man was completely fed up with his captive’s resilience, “ _god_ this is brutal. What the hell is wrong with that guy?”

“He’s a freak like his brother,” Cha-Cha answered.

“Everyone else in that house,” he remarked, turning on the faucet.

“Speakin’ of everyone else, what’s with the girl?”

Hazel turned off the tap before turning to his partner, “she was there when it happened,” he explained, “saw too much. Besides, doesn’t she kind of look like Dolores Hargreeves?”

“Five’s wife?” the woman asked incredulously, “she’s not a kid, you idiot.”

“I know that,” he told her, “but we could always check with her picture.”

“Five _would_ take the bait of his wife over his weird-ass brother,” Cha-Cha allowed, “he’d go ballistic if he found her missing. It’s worth lookin’ into, I suppose.”

“They should have warned us this was an atypical assignment,” Hazel complained, sitting on the tub, “they’re stickin’ it to the workin’ man.”

“Oh, come on, not this again,” the woman exclaimed, “remember Trinidad? We worked that guy solid for what? Two days, two nights? I’m sure the girl will be easy to crack. Our target’s been wrong the whole time.”

“We should at least check the picture first,” Hazel suggested, not wanting to hurt a victim of wrong-place-wrong-time. She might not even _be_ who he thought she was.

\--

The masked people returned to the room, this time coming around to face the pair. Lola sucked in a breath as the woman turned to her, holding up a small, square piece of paper next to her face. While the brunette couldn’t see her expression, her tone was analytical, “the eyes are the same. An even better match than that tow truck driver.”

“But the hair style’s different,” ' _elaborate_ ’ pointed out.

“Of _course_ the hair style’s different, you idiot,” the woman snapped, her tone mocking, “you could say her _age_ is different too and gain just as much comparison. What about the nose?”

“I think it’s bigger in the picture,” the man offered.

Pink-dog-mask let out an irritated sigh and opened her mouth to respond, but the Séance cut in first, “hey, hey, hey, you assholes. Remember me? Your favorite punching bag? You don’t need her.”

Both masked faces turned in his direction and they didn’t need to be uncovered to see- or sense- their disdained expressions. They turned away, vanishing from sight as Lola turned the man next to her, her expression confused. _Why would he try to save her? She had no idea who he was. Maybe it was that superhero training? To save the vulnerable?_ She had some time to puzzle over it while their captors discussed something out of range. It was a welcome distraction from the constant fear that interrupted her normal thought process.

Suddenly, the man spoke, “I don’t know, but she’s driving me _crazy_. The bitch won’t shut up!”

Lola flinched in her seat at his harsh language. She’d been about to apologize due to the first statement, thinking he was talking to her, but the angry ending made her clamp her mouth shut as her brows furrowed. She knew of the Séance’s powers to summon ghosts and he hadn’t seemed to have been talking to _her_.

“Hey, watch your mouth,” ‘ _elaborate_ ’ told the man, thinking the Séance was talking about his partner, “what did I say about eyes front?”

The man fell silent again, shivering slightly in his seat. It was several long moments before the masked faces reappeared, this time ‘ _elaborate_ ’ sat in front of them as the violent woman started rifling through their captives’ coat, causing him to protest, “wait, wait, wait. That’s mine. That’s my personal stuff.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaimed, “what do we have here?”

“Let me see that,” the man said as the woman tossed it to him.

“Be-be careful with that…” the Séance protested, “it’s- it’s my asthma medication!”

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” ‘ _elaborate_ ’ dropped the items on the ground and began to stomp on it, earning more protests from their hostage.

“We can have a conversation! We’re adults-“

“Okay, you want more?” he continued to crush the items into the carpet, earning more desperate pleas from the man.

The violent woman pulled out a package wrapped in shiny foil and handed it to her partner, who opened it and broke off a piece, “chocolate. Mm-mm-mm.”

He passed it back to her to let the woman wave it in front of the Séance’s face, “this could all be yours for the low, low price of telling us everything.”

“Okay, fine,” he cried, “I don’t… I don’t know where Five is, I wasn’t lying about that, but I can tell you that he’s- hasn’t been making much sense since he came back.”

“Elaborate.”

 _Sixteen_.

The Séance stammered, finally forcing out, “he’s been acting like a lunatic! He’s been sitting in this van in front of a lab or-or something, with her,” he nodded to Lola, “looking for the owner of an eyeball, one of those fake ones. Ask her, she’d know!”

Lola’s eyes widened and words burst from her mouth before she could stop them, “I don’t know anything! I don’t even know who this man is! I’ve never _met_ this Five in my life-“

“Bullshit,” the woman exclaimed, “you’re lying.”

“I _swear_ -“ she started, regretting that she opened her mouth in the first place.

“Nice girls don’t swear,” ‘ _elaborate_ ’ said mildly, nodding to the woman.

The brunette yelped when she felt a sharp _crack!_ across her face, causing her head to turn. Tears smarted in her eyes and she gasped, feeling the resulting sting on her cheek from the hit, “I- I _promise_ I don’t know anything,” she sniffled slightly, “I just- just w-wanted books-“

The woman came around and the girl’s head was jerked up sharply, the pink dog’s nails digging into the sides of her face as the woman raised her head harshly, “ _lies_ ,” she snapped, “you’re Number Five’s wife, the only one he trusts. What’s the lab he’s talking about?”

Lola’s head spun from the fear that pounded through her, her head trapped in the vicelike grip, unable to move to either side to get a clue from the Séance. Frantically, she tried to think of a building- _any_ building would do- that sounded vaguely scientific.

“He said the eye had something to do with the end of times, or something,” the Séance’s wavery voice put in, causing the woman to look at her partner, finally releasing her grip on the girl’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's probably obvious that I've never written a scene like the one with Hazel and Cha-Cha before.... I hope I pulled it off alright, though. I felt kind of uncomfortable writing it so I went as mild as possible as a "starter" since I don't have a lot of experience. 
> 
> I definitely wouldn't mind getting advice from other writers (or even non-writers) though!
> 
> Also, I changed the summary and I think I like it better than the previous one- it's less wordy.


	8. The Best of Times and The Worst of Times

While Dolores' splitting headache had, eventually, subsided into a dull, constant throb, the pain still made it difficult to concentrate or talk for long periods of time. On top of that, Five was in a distinctly sour mood due to their most secure leading blowing up in his face.

After he’d returned to the van, he’d taken hold of her hand and blinked them away to a nearby liquor store where he proceeded to steal two bottles of whiskey. His excuse had been that it would help her headache though Dolores suspected that he had ulterior motives as well. The boy had then jumped them to the library where he insisted that he needed time to work, so he’d sat her down at one of the library’s tables and dove into his equations, taking the occasional sip of alcohol to accompany his ramblings.

The brunette made an effort to pay attention to him but was more focused on the liquor in her hands. Five had been surprisingly correct- the alcohol _did_ help take her mind of the ache in her head, the burning feeling of the drink redirecting the pain elsewhere. Besides, it felt _good-_ warm and rich and it made her feel positively bubbly, her worries evaporating as quickly as the drink in the bottle was disappearing.

At the sound of giggles, Five turned away from his work on the library’s chalkboard to give the brunette a slightly hazy, fond look, “what’s so funny?” he asked, his words slurring together a bit. Whatever the joke was, he wanted to be in on it, too.

“Nuthin’” Dolores shrugged, still giggling. She gave him a slightly dopey smile, “I _loooveee_ you!” she sang happily, throwing her arms- the hand holding the bottle loosening dangerously- wide open, “c’mere!”

The boy hesitated only for a moment before shrugging. _His equations could wait_ , “okay.”

As soon as he was close enough, Dolores set her bottle on the ground and wrapped her arms around his waist, yanking him down to sit on her lap. She misjudged the strength of her pull, though, and he landed heavily, nearly sliding off. That sent _both_ of them into fits of laughter, earning a few disgruntled looks from other patrons.

Once he’d righted himself, Five turned to face the girl, his expression softening at the sight of the happiness in her bright blue eyes. It only served to remind him how- though far more optimistic than him- serious she was most of the time. He lifted his hand slowly, moving it to tuck some of the loose, brown strands of hair behind her ear, his fingertips gently brushing along the curve of her cheek. He smiled slightly as he watched them turn pink, pleased with the affect he had on her.

“Hi,” she murmured quietly, her eyes meeting his and she smiled shyly at him, “you’re cute.”

He beamed at her, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to her lips, “no, I’m Five,” he reminded her helpfully.

That earned him another peal of giggles that sent his heart pounding as he watched he affectionately. Once they’d died again, he couldn’t resist leaning forward so that his lips brushed her ear as he whispered, “you know what we should do?”

Dolores’ reply was breathless, “what?”

“Have a tryst in the library.”

\--

Later, once they’d become suitably presentable again and after they’d “worked” on Five’s equations- it had been him writing a single number and then stopping for either a drink break or make out heavily with his wife in the middle of the library- Dolores stumbled over to a corner near where they were working and slid down, resting her head against the concrete and closing her eyes. Five joined her a minute later, looping an arm over her shoulders, redirecting her head to rest on his shoulder.

The brunette curled up against the boy, her arms wrapping around his waist to hug him tightly as she buried her face in the now-familiar blue cloth of his jacket. Eventually, she felt herself drift off to sleep in the comfort of her husband’s arms, the boy following her soon after, his cheek pressing against the top of her dark hair.

Unbeknownst to the two of them, they were attracting attention again, this time from the library employees, “I’m going to call security,” one of the woman said, amused at their behavior.

The words caught the notice of Five’s brothers, the two of them surprised, “is he, um-“

“Drunk as a skunk.”

\--

Luther carried Five with Diego carried Dolores, the four Hargreeves walking slowly down an alleyway after their respective escapades at the library.

“Well, we can’t go back to the house,” Luther said, “it’s not secure. Those psychopaths could come back at any moment.”

“My place is closer,” Diego suggested, “no one will look for them there.”

Five woke with a belch and his brother grimaced, “if you vomit on me…”

Dolores- seeming to sense that her husband was awake- woke as well and scrunched her face up, “yucky.”

“You know what’s funny?” Five asked with a life, “I’m fifteen and I’ve been married to the love of my life for twice my age! And-“ he hiccupped, “I’m going through puberty. Twice!”

Dolores giggled slightly, looking up dopily at Diego, “he’s my husband,” she announced proudly, “I love him.”

“We drank those whole bottles, didn’t we?” the boy asked with a chuckle, “that’s what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye.”

The brunette nodded, her tone serious as she agreed, “poof. It’s gone.”

“What are you guys talkin’ about?” the boy questioned.

“Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night,” Luther told him.

“They came looking for you,” Diego added, “so I need you to focus. What do they want?”

“Hazel and Cha-Cha,” his brother answered.

“Thing One and Thing Two,” Dolores added with a giggle.

“She’s not wrong,” Five agreed, pointing sloppily in his wife’s direction.

“You know, I hate codenames.”

“Don’t hate on Dr. Suess! He’s smarter than you are!” the brunette exclaimed, her tone exaggeratingly scolding.

“Ah, the best of the best.”

“Except for you, of course,” Dolores said supportively, lifting her head up to give the boy a proud smile.

“Except for me,” he allowed.

“The best of what?” Luther demanded, letting the girl’s jab at him slide for the time being. Besides, a doctor probably _was_ smarter than him. (Though he’d never heard of this “Dr. Suess” before.)

“You know, Dolly always said she hated it when I drank,” Five remarked.

“Yeah, it makes you a grumpy pants,” the girl said, pouting, “and super sleepy.”

“Hey!” Diego snapped.

“Hm? Yeah?”

“I need you to focus. What do this Hazel and Cha-Cha want?” there was silence as Five’s attention was redirected to his wife as he smiled softly at her. Diego sighed, “we just want to protect you.”

“Protect me,” he scoffed, “I don’t _need_ your protection, Diego. And I can look after Dolly just fine on my own. Do you have any idea how many people I’ve killed?”

“No.”

“I’m the Four frickin’ Horsemen and Dolly’s the angel Gabriel. The apocalypse is coming,” he promptly turned over and vomited, much to Luther’s disgust.

\--

Lola didn’t know how long they were stuck in the dark closet. Without a hint to the passing of seconds, it was impossible to tell whether it had been minutes, days or hours. Even her proficient counting couldn’t help since she’d forgotten to start the second ‘ _elaborate_ ’ shut the door on them, her fear still pumping through her from the violent woman’s attention on her. Their captors had duct taped their mouths shut so she couldn’t even talk to the man trapped in the closet with her.

He was having a worse go of it than she was, though. The Séance had been quiet at first, faint whimpers escaping from past his sealed mouth. It was only after the minutes had crept by had he started straining at his bonds, his whimpers turning into panicked screams. Lola didn’t know what was causing him to be so frightened; she wasn’t a fan of the dark herself but she _could_ deal with it. In the length of time she had to think, though, her mind formed a new answer: she’d suspected his powers had been acting up earlier in his questioning, when it had seemed like he was talking to the violent woman but he really hadn’t, so maybe ghosts were scarier in the dark. Regardless of the answer, the brunette wished she could help him. She was unable to reach out and rest a reassuring hand on him due to the restraints, nor could she vocally comfort him.

As she was thinking of how she _could_ help, a new sound interrupted her thoughts: the whirring of a vacuum. The mundane noise was almost otherworldly after only being able to hear the voices of three people and she’d forgotten that they were in a motel in the first place. Hope made her straighten in her chair, her entire body leaning towards the opening of the closet as if being closer to the closed door would suddenly open. The Séance had a similar idea and his screaming resumed, this time more purposeful as he tried to get the housekeeper’s attention. Their efforts were futile and the cleaner left the room none the wiser.

\--

“You idiot!” the violent woman’s voice sounded from outside the closet.

“What?” her partner asked.

“You didn’t put the ‘Do not Disturb’ sign on the door!”

“I did!” he protested, “I know I did- _shit_!”

The closet doors were thrown open the next minute, golden light flooding the dark space, making Lola squint against the sudden brightness.

“Oh my god, they’re still here,” ‘ _elaborate_ ’ exclaimed, though now Lola could see exactly what their captors looked like- they had forgotten their masks, “hi.”

The man pulled the Séance out first before she was brought in to the main part of the room. Vaguely, she wondered where they’d gone- perhaps a lunch break? She was starving, after all. She hadn’t eaten since the night she’d gotten captured and her stomach was audibly growling; she wasn’t used to going this long without food.

 _No, you idiot_ , she told herself, _they went to that lab place the Séance told them about. Stay focused._ She couldn’t afford to get distracted- now that their captors had information, the possibility of her death was exponentially higher.

Next to her, the Séance mumbled indistinctly.

“What’s he saying?” the man asked, walking over to yank off the tape.

“What are you sayin’?” the violent woman demanded.

“You guys are scarier without the masks,” he told them breathlessly and Lola couldn’t argue with him.

That earned him a harsh slap across the face as ‘ _elaborate_ ’ scolded him, “that’s no way to say hello to your old friends, is it?”

“Can’t we call it a night?” the Séance pleaded, “I already gave you what you wanted. Just please…please let me-“ he glanced at her, “ _us_ go-“

“Well, technically, we want your brother. Is your brother here now?”

He groaned, “uh, he…you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that,” he murmured, looking towards the beds. He let out pained sound as he earned another slap, “ow! I told you already, he’s not coming for _me_. No one will- He’d only come for her.”

“Well, Number Five knows now,” the violent woman told him, “even if he trusts the girl to take care of herself, he doesn’t seem like the type to risk _two_ family members. We left him a message, and when he comes for you- either of you- we’ll be ready.”

They darkened the room, shutting off all light as they turned their captives to face the door before disappearing further into the room. Next to her, the Séance whimpered, though with her mouth still covered, there was little Lola could do.

It was some time later when the Séance’s mumbles became intelligible, “hi, uh-what’s your name?“

Lola’s brows furrowed. She couldn’t very well answer thanks to the tape covering her mouth, so unless the Séance was more of an idiot than she already thought…. Was he talking to a _ghost_? Slightly awed at seeing one of the Hargreeve’s powers at work, she continued to watch him.

“Oh! That’s a lovely name,” he said, looking into seemingly empty space, “and can you tell me what happened?”

The violent woman still thought he was talking to them, “what happened is if you don’t shut up, I’mma cut your tongue out with a grapefruit spoon.”

“Zoya Popova,” he said quietly in response, “old Russian broad, short, with a limp,” he laughed, “oh, she’s really pissed at you guys.”

The Séance went silent for awhile and Lola presumed that he was listening to the ghosts. She wondered how many there were and if some were standing right… behind… her. Suddenly paranoid, she twisted around to see if anyone was there, though of course she saw no one. The girl shivered, her fear returning, though this time not because of her captors. She didn’t even want to _think_ about it.

“Just shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up,” The Séance chanted suddenly, shaking his head slightly, “everybody just… everybody just please, shut up. Jesus, you guys are worse than drugs.”

Lola heard the man whisper, “how could he possibly know about Zoya Popova?”

“Maybe he guessed, I don’t know,” the woman answered, “who cares? She’s dead. You need to focus. That little psycho could show up any minute, or do you want to be docked pay again, go back and tell ‘em we couldn’t hack it, face those consequences? Pull it together, now!”

“Swiss Alps, huh?” her attention focused back on the man next to her.

‘ _Elaborate_ ’ turned the Séance around and the man asked, “which one are you, Cha-Cha or Hazel?”

“Hazel,” the man answered, and Lola was suddenly glad that she could put a name to a face. Before, when the two had been nameless, she’d felt the most fear over their anonymous identities. Now that she knew what they looked like _and_ had their names, they weren’t quite as scary. Dangerous, certainly, and she wouldn’t exactly want to go shopping with either of them, but at least her panic had calmed so she could begin to think clearly again.

“Jan Mueller. Remember him? Swiss Alps. Him and his wife were coming back from a ski trip.”

“I remember,” the woman- Cha-Cha- said quietly, “forward, reverse.”

“Yeah, that’s it!” the Séance chuckled, “yeah! And his wife… escaped down an alleyway. He says to say thank you.”

The brunette half-wished Hazel had turned her around as well so she could see their captor’s expressions at this new information. She was sure the woman wouldn’t be pleased- and she was right, “what’s he talking about?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” Hazel mumbled.

“He was so grateful to you, Hazel, for having spared his wife. You know, there may be hope for him yet, don’t you think?” the Séance seemed to be directing the question to her, though Lola refrained from answering, not wanting to anger the man’s partner.

“Bathroom, now!” Cha-Cha ordered.

“Jan says you’re a real mensch, Hazel!” the Séance said in a loud voice, “he said you were such a great-“ his tone changed abruptly, “no! No! No!”

“Now,” Cha-Cha’s voice sounded from behind Lola, the sticky sound of tape being unraveled told her that they were tired of hearing his taunts, “shut up.”

Using his feet, the man wiggled himself back to face the door once they were left alone again. Lola hoped that whoever they were waiting for- one of the Séance’s brothers- _would_ come to free them despite the danger. She was exhausted and hungry and felt like she desperately needed a shower. Standing and stretching would feel wonderful, too, after sitting for so many hours. _Surely not all of the Séance’s family were as unprepared as him, right?_ Maybe the mission would be successful and the Hargreeves would know how to rescue them safely.

The sound of footsteps reached the room and hope suddenly spiked in Lola’s chest. _Everything would be okay_. Someone was coming to rescue them- they _had_ to be- and they would be free. She’d get to go home, report the motel to the police and never leave the safety of her family. She’d be even more careful going out, maybe never even by herself again. She’d never return to the Academy. Now that she knew kidnapping was _real_ \- (of course, she’d _known_ it was, but she hadn’t given it much thought, the idea as unrealistic as seeing a tornado sweep through her town.)

A shadow appeared in the window and the Séance resumed his muffled screams, desperation making him hit his head against the solid wood of the table next to him. Lola winced at the thumps, wishing, again, that she could help. _She hated feeling so useless._ Suddenly, the lock beeped and clicked, the sound of a keycard opening it unmistakable. The door opened, revealing a woman’s silhouette. She bent down towards the man, “are you Diego’s brother?”

The Séance nodded and she looked over to the brunette, “are you… uh, the wife?” that was all she had to go off of. After all, the message had read, _your brother and wife say hi_ , though a fifteen-year-old couldn’t _possibly_ be a wife, right?”

The girl shook her head and the Detective frowned. She’d figure out where the missing member was once she’d freed the two captives in front of her, “I’m Detective Patch,” she introduced herself, using her knife to quickly cut the bonds on Diego’s brother’s wrists and the girl’s.

As Lola rolled her wrists to regain feeling, she winced at the sudden rush of blood to her hands. Behind them, the bathroom door opened slowly. Detective Patch helped the Séance up as Lola stood on her own, slightly shaky from sitting so long. Unsteadily, she stumbled over to the table and braced herself with her hands as she fell against it.

Meanwhile, Patch had noticed the movement farther in the room and drew out her gun, gently pressing the man’s head down to safety as she raised it to point it at the captor, shooting successive bullets at the man. The Séance lost his footing and toppled, his hand flashing out to catch himself, only to grasp on to Lola’s wrist, sending her towards the ground with him.

“Police!” Patch shouted, “drop the gun or you’re going down!”

The brunette heard a thump but didn’t turn to look, choosing to instead focus on getting to all fours, her hands and knees being more stable than her legs.

“Coming out! Don’t shoot!” Hazel’s voice sounded from the bathroom.

The Séance grabbed his coat from the bed and looked around wildly for a fast exit. Having read more than her fair share of spy books and thrillers, Lola immediately looked for a vent, remembering that people usually eavesdropped from them because of the airflow, which meant it had access to outside. Her eyes landed on the one near the beside table and she hit the Séance repeatedly on the shoulder to get his attention, pointing furiously at the vent near the ground.

“Hands behind your head, asshole.”

“Okay,” Hazel said, “just don’t shoot.”

The man followed the girl’s direction and removed the grate from the opening, pressing himself into the wall and gesturing for her to go first. She gave him a slightly surprised look- he seemed more of a self-serving type of hero- and agreed silently, crawling into the small, metal space. A briefcase stood in the way, though she didn’t let that deter her and instead pushed it along as she crawled. She could hear the Séance’s heavy breathing behind her as she crept further into the darkness. _She hoped he didn’t bring any ghosts with him. Though_ , she added as an afterthought, _she’d much rather have ghosts than be a captive._

They didn’t stop, even as the sound of a gunshot echoed in the vent.

\--

Lola had never been happier when she felt the cool, night air hit her face as they exited the tunnel. They were _free_. Finally, she pulled the duct tape off her mouth and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she let a shudder of relief pass through her. A hand grasping hers made her startle and her eyes opened again to see the Séance tugging her, “come on, come on,” he urged her, “we can’t let them catch us!”

Now that they were free, though, the brunette had no doubts that she could outrun two grown adults, so she wasn’t as worried for _her_ sake, though as she took in the man’s appearance, she allowed him to pull her along, “I- I’m Lola,” she stuttered out, her voice slightly hoarse from lack of use and water.

“I know you’re Dolores,” the man answered, not looking back, his gaze set on their escape.

The brunette grimaced, “please don’t call me that,” she said, “I prefer Lola.”

The man turned finally, looking slightly confused, “you just- you just told me you were Dolores the other day.”

Lola mirrored his expression, “how’s that possible? I’ve never met you before.”

He blinked before his mouth cracked into a wide grin, chuckles escaping from his lips, “oh, you’re- you’re _good_. It’s a shame that humor is wasted on an old fart like Five,” he fought to keep his expression serious as he said, “you’re right, I have absolutely no idea who you are.”

The brunette relaxed until he added, “ _Dolores_ ,” and burst into giggles, looking at her expectantly. Lola did not join in.

“How- how do you know me?” she asked, now even more bewildered.

“We met earlier this week,” he answered, giving her a puzzled look, “remember Bonnie and Clyde? Or Peanut Butter and Chocolate?” her expression remained blank.

“I only know you’re the Séance,” she told him.

The man’s expression grew concerned, “it didn’t look like they hit you that hard but maybe the slap knocked out some of your memories?”

They stopped walking when they arrived at the bus stop and gave each other a thorough once-over before the man finally said, “well, since you don’t remember, I’m Klaus, though I’m offended that I’m so easily forgettable.”

She blinked, “right,” came her slow answer, “I’m Lola.”

“I know that already,” the Séance- Klaus- reminded her.

Lola shifted uncomfortably and hoped the bus would come soon, “um, thanks.”

He seemed even more perplexed than before, “for what?”

“For saving me. I couldn’t have gotten out of there without you.” It _was_ true- if Klaus hadn’t been such an outside-the-box thinker, Detective Patch would never have checked their room.

The man scoffed awkwardly, “oh, well, y’know, your old man woulda killed me if I’d left you for dead. Besides, I don’t need you plaguing me in the afterlife. I’ve already got _one_ annoying ghost doing that. I don’t need two.”

“Well, still. Thanks.” _Old man_? _He had to have been talking about her father._

She was immensely relieved when the bus finally arrived. It was terribly strange talking to someone who already knew you, yet you had no memories of them- and she was absolutely certain they’d never met before.

They boarded, Klaus making up some excuse for their lack of payment that the driver surprisingly seemed to buy, and then they occupied two of the plastic seats that lined the sides of the bus. Klaus was still holding the briefcase and Lola gave it a curious look, “what’s in there, d’you think?”

“Money, I hope. Or gold,” Klaus said, shifting it in his hands so the latches faced up.

The brunette pressed against his shoulder, peering down at the case curiously. A bright flash of blue lit up her vision and she felt herself being sucked down a portal- the kind of squeezing feeling she thought Disapperating in _Harry Potter_ would feel like- and then, well- a completely different, terrible change of her surroundings. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> I'm sorry I missed updating yesterday again. I promise I'm not losing motivation for this story- I just had a very busy day yesterday and couldn't post. This chapter was a little longer to make up for it! 
> 
> Hopefully I won't be late again next week.


	9. Everybody Look What's Going Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll return to our regularly scheduled programming of apocalypse-stopping next week, but I wanted to go more in-depth of Lola's time in Vietnam than what Dolores' flashback memories would allow. 
> 
> I've also updated the tags accordingly for this chapter, so make sure to check them out and let me know if you think I've missed anything!

Vietnam was unlike anything Lola had ever experienced- not that she could claim to have experienced much of what life had to offer, but still, she knew this wasn’t _life_ \- this was far, far worse. It wasn’t just that Vietnam was a worse version of Florida- more humid, stickier, hotter and wetter and the crocodiles and alligators were grenades and bullets- the noise of guns and explosions, though muted, was constant.

Thanks to her father, Lola knew a little bit about a lot of history. She knew at least half of the casualties weren’t soldiers, but Vietnamese citizens. She knew the war lasted almost thirty years and that at the end, both the U.S. and South Vietnamese Presidents would be shot. He’d also read that despite the myth, the U.S. hadn’t won _every_ battle but the troops also didn’t loose any ground. But what stuck in her head the most, of course, were the numbers: _one out of every ten Americans who served was a casualty. 58,148 soldiers were killed, 304,000 were wounded, 2.7 million served. 75,000 veterans were disabled._ The list continued, of course, but Lola preferred not to think about it.

In fact, she never could have _imagined_ having to think about it except, perhaps, on a test- certainly never to _live_ it, and it was even worse that her one link back home- _Klaus_ \- was a soldier. She didn’t know why he didn’t leave right away. That’s certainly what _she_ wanted to do the second the sound of combat reached her ears when they landed in the soldiers’ tent, but she unfortunately hadn’t gotten a chance to talk him out of staying before he was whisked off to fight.

Now, she stood in front of a stern, older woman with a firm-set mouth and disapproving expression, her eyes hard and unforgiving as she stared down at the younger girl, “how much experience do you have?”

Lola had, at first, worried her age was going to be a problem- she suspected the warfront didn’t see very many fifteen-year-old girls- but nobody seemed to care much that she was underage. Instead, she blinked at the steel-haired woman in confusion, “experience?”

“Nursing,” came the short, sharp reply, “I haven’t got all day, girl.”

“Oh, um,” she hesitated, her stomach already squeamish at the thought of blood- she’d always felt nauseous at seeing the black-and-white pictures when they studied war in school- “none?”

The older woman was not pleased with this answer, “well, what skills _do_ you have?”

She frowned a moment before her expression relaxed, “I can count. I’m good with keeping track of numbers.”

“Right, then. You’ll be on inventory. Go see Dottie to get started,” the woman pointed into a large, canvas tent where Lola suspected Dottie was.

(Unfortunately, when she got inside, she threw up in the entrance.)

\--

It seemed to take forever for the first day to end. Lola forced herself to stay focused on the numbers- luckily, the inventory was in terrible shape- and not on the cries of the soldier being tended to in the tent, or the state of them. Many of the wounds they sported were positively gruesome. They were bad enough in fuzzy pictures illuminated on a white board but they were far, far worse in person. As long as she didn’t _look_ directly at them, though, most of Lola’s stomach contents stayed in its proper place.

When she returned to the soldier’s tent she and Klaus first arrived in, she was more than a little relieved to see the man in one piece, though he gave her a concerned look the moment he laid eyes on her, “you’re not looking too good,” he observed.

She gave him a weak smile, “blood makes me squeamish. Um, when can we leave?”

“Leave?” he echoed.

“Yeah, to go back? We don’t have to stay here, y’know.”

“Oh, well, y’know-“ the man started, his reply in that familiar, airy voice of his.

“Hey, who’s your friend?” a new voice interrupted his response.

Before the brunette even turned around, she could see Klaus’ face brighten and her hopes sank as he answered, “oh, this my, er- sister. Dol-Lola. Yeah, Lola.”

When she finally did face the man, who smiled kindly at her, “it’s nice to meet you. You’re serving as a nurse?” he added, spotting her uniform.

“Um, pseudo-nurse,” she answered without further explanation. She turned back to Klaus, “so, leaving?”

“It wouldn’t hurt to stay a few days, would it?”

\--

Of course, it turned into _more_ than a “few days” and Klaus always seemed deaf when she asked when they were leaving.

It was a great relief to Lola, though, that he didn’t go out _immediately_ on missions and spent most of the first month training. In the back of her mind, the statistics her father had read at the breakfast table one morning (before, of course, her mother scolded him for starting the day on such a horrible note) kept repeating themselves in the back of her mind. _One out of every ten Americans who served was a casualty. 58,148 soldiers were killed, 304,000 were wounded, 2.7 million served. 75,000 veterans were disabled-_

Lola pushed the voice as far away as she could, instead choosing to sort out the inventory until it was in tip-top shape. She repeated _those_ numbers over top of the statistics to try and drown them out. When there was no inventory to sort, she was in charge of keeping the aisles between the cots clear and neat for easier passage. She made sure to keep her head down as she worked, refusing to look directly at any of the soldiers. She’d already thrown up more than she would’ve liked to admit and all of the nurses- Dottie, Beth, Maggie, Peggy and the head nurse (who everyone called Nurse Commander behind her back)- had seen her vomit at _least_ once.

Thankfully, they didn’t hold this against her, though their sympathy was also lacking. She guessed it was because kindness had no place on the battlefield and they’d all seen worse than a teenage girl reacting to the horrors of war. (And they _were,_ truly, horrors.) Lola coped as best she could despite the worry that her parents had no idea where she was (she must have been missing for at least three days back home) and that her mind was still having trouble processing everything she was seeing.

\--

Halfway through their second month, Klaus approached her after their lunch shift with a grim expression on his face- an unusual look for him- and she was immediately concerned, “Klaus?” she thought of the man he usually hung out with, “it’s not Dave, is it?”

“No, no. Well, not really,” he answered, clearly trying to be reassuring, “it’s just… we’re going out. On a mission.”

A heavy, stone-like feeling lodged itself in her stomach, “oh. When?”

“Tomorrow morning, early,” he sounded apologetic despite the circumstances being out of his control, “there’s some Vietcongs nearby that we have to take care of. The sergeant major suspects we’ll be gone a week, tops. I thought you might want to know.” He left the threat of this being a one-way trip unsaid.

“Oh,” she said again, not knowing what else to say, “um, good luck, then.” _One out of every ten Americans who served was a casualty. 58,148 soldiers were killed, 304,000 were wounded-_

\--

The following days, Lola tried to bury herself in whatever organizing she could find. She re-sorted the inventory, updated the items logged in, picked up every piece of trash, cleaned the bed pans until her hands were cracked and raw. She didn’t miss the slightly-pitying looks the other nurses sent her and did her best to ignore them. They probably thought she wouldn’t make it.

Lola herself doubted her perseverance most days, her sheer willpower having never been tested so consistently or tried so hard. Still, in any situation, she would always, _always_ be the type to bend but never break. It didn’t have to be an apocalypse- it could be any odds that weren’t in her favor, but she would always find a way. While she may not be able to conjure the dead or jump through space and time, she had great control over her own mind.

The important thing was to not let her mind wander while she cleaned. If she kept her attention on the task at hand, it was easier for her to compartmentalize the sights and sounds she experienced every day, so that they didn’t bother her during normal life. Sleep was always harder, of course, when her mind was more susceptible- there _were_ nights when she would jolt awake from nightmares- but on the whole, she managed as well as the average soldier (or, in her case, nurse.)

It was only on Klaus’ third day of absence did her routine change- she _looked up_. Mistakenly, of course. She’d been cleaning bedpan next to a cot that had been surprisingly silent- most she could hear at least _some_ sound of a soldier occupying it- and so had stood to change the bedclothes, only to find the bed being used. The brunette immediately made to turn away, though her mind registered, in her quick glimpse, that there was nothing particularly nauseating about this man’s injuries.

Tentatively, she turned to look back at him. His face was still and his eyes were closed, though she could see he had a rather squat nose and square chin. His straw-like hair was plastered down to his forehead either by past or current fever sweats, but other than that, there didn’t seem to be anything particularly _wrong_ with him. Cautiously, she reached two fingers towards his neck and checked his pulse. While it was true that she didn’t know much about nursing, CPR had been a mandatory course in her freshman fall semester.

“He’ll be dead by morning,” the Nurse Commander’s blunt voice made her jump.

Lola turned to look at the older woman, frowning, “I can feel a pulse. What’s wrong with him?”

“He got his leg blasted off by a grenade. He’s lucky the rest of him didn’t follow. Or unlucky, I suppose. He’s been fighting an infection since we got him.”

“But people survive infections all the time,” the girl protested, looking back at the unconscious soldier.

“Not on the warfront. Infections take nearly as many as bullets and grenades do. We’ve done all we can. We’ll notify his family when he passes- that’s more than what most get. Get back to work, girl.”

Once the older woman left, the brunette turned back to the blond. His expression hadn’t changed while they talked about him and now that it had been pointed out, she could see the pasty-ness of his face in addition to the fever. Lola knew that detachment was the best course of action when they lost so many soldiers daily- it was how the other nurses operated, otherwise they’d most likely go mad- but she was still a naïve, fifteen-year-old girl at heart despite having lived in a warzone for the past five weeks.

Apologizing quietly to the man, she reached underneath his collar slightly and lifted his dog tags up, turning them over to read the name on the worn metal: _James Smith_. _Private, first class._ To anyone else, he would just be another statistic, another letter home, signed by a high-ranking officer. She’d seen enough war movies to know how these things worked. The brunette wondered what he’d been before this, before he was enlisted. Did he have a family? Sisters? Brothers? What had he wanted to do before he was enlisted? He looked to be in his late twenties, so he had years to experience everything life had to offer- or so he’d probably thought.

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes at the thought of so many lost men and she quickly blinked them away. Sure, not all of them had been _good_ \- she wasn’t naïve enough to think _that_ \- but they’d all had stories, and now most of them probably didn’t even have bodies left to bury. Lola knew that if _she_ was a soldier, she’d want someone to remember her, to remember the deeds she had performed in service for her country, the friends she had made and lost and to remember them in turn. She knew, too, that war could make people desperate and could make them do terrible things- even if it wasn’t something they would have ever chosen before- and that kindness was hard to come by and an even rarer choice to make.

She saw it in the distant, effective way the nurses took care of their patients. None of them learned the names of soldiers- they were always ‘sir’ or ‘mister’ and the rare women were ‘miss’ or ‘ma’am’- before quickly moving on to the next patient. The soldiers that were lost were usually burned away from camp, graves too much of a hassle and risk to dig for so many men. The soldiers’ interactions with each other were slightly more personable, especially those sharing squadrons, but higher ranking officers only addressed the men by rank. 

Turn to the man on the cot, she said, “hi, James,” very quietly, “I’m Lola,” there was no response, of course, but she liked to think that maybe he appreciated the use of his name.

\--

When Klaus’ squadron returned four days later, Lola was one of the first to run up and meet them, throwing her arms around the dark-haired man without hesitation as she hugged him tightly, her eyes squeezed shut against the rough material of his army vest. The man didn’t react at first, looking down at the brunette with wide, shocked eyes before turning the look to Dave, who stood nearby.

The other man gave him a confused look at his slightly panicked expression, so Klaus helpfully clarified, “what do I _do_?”

It took a moment for the brunet to see that Klaus really had no idea how to respond, so he gave the other man a rather stupefied look and answered, “hug her back, you idiot!” (Idiot, here, of course, was a term of exasperated endearment.)

Tentatively, the Hargreeves wrapped his arms around the girl as he heard her audibly whisper, “I missed you.”

He was pretty sure he heard her sniffle against him and the _last_ thing Klaus wanted was to comfort a _crying_ girl- so he hastily said, “hey, Princess, I’m okay,” allowing the nickname to slip out without thought. He elected to ignore the strange way her saying “ _I missed you_ ” affected him- fuzzy, sibling feelings were not his strong suit.

When she pulled away, he noticed her wipe at her eyes and quickly changed the subject, “do you wanna hear stories about the mission?”

After that, he made sure to check in on the younger girl more often. While it was unusual to him that someone seemed to find his presence something to look _forward_ to, it was a nice change to see the way the girl visibly brightened at the sight of him. She seemed to be dealing with everything fairly well and had even stopped asking when they were going to leave, instead choosing to pester him with questions about Dave, which he didn’t mind answering in the slightest. Lola was almost the little sister he’d never had, with Allison following along with whatever their father said and Vanya never being part of the group. Normally, he would have hightailed it out of any relationship that required responsibility on his part, but both the obligation he felt towards the teen and his desire to- well, to be _better_ for Dave, made the burden not seem so uncomfortable.

\--

Their four-month mark came and went with Dave asking Lola to help him look for Klaus. He’d needed the other man for something and the Hargreeves was nowhere to be found, so the brunette agreed to search the camp for him. It wasn’t like there were very many places to go, after all. After asking around- she’d made a point to try and remember the soldiers’ names- she was finally directed in the right direction. She found the brunet near the latrines, standing away from the outhouses with his back turned, slightly hunched over.

“Klaus?” she asked gently, not wanting to scare him.

The man jumped anyway, whirling around with wide eyes, looking like he’d gotten caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Truthfully, his hands were occupied by a very different substance- his right holding a needle that disappeared into his other arm.

“Princess!” he exclaimed, sounding terribly guilty. He tried to lower his arm out of sight, “what- what d’you want?”

“I was looking for you,” she answered slowly, her eyes trailing down to his hands, “well, Dave was, and he asked me to help. What’re you doing?”

“Nothing,” the man answered quickly, “you weren’t supposed to see this.”

The brunette frowned, “are you diabetic? That’s alright, y’know-“

“No- no I’m not. Why don’t you go tell Dave I’ll be right along?”

“I will, in a minute. Klaus, what-“

“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted, not meeting the girl’s eyes, “go on.”

But Lola didn’t want to _go on_. Klaus’ health was her topmost priority- she wouldn’t leave Vietnam without him and it was her duty to make sure he didn’t become a statistic. Instead, she stepped closer, slowly, as she would a wild animal trapped in a corner. When he didn’t react, she moved until she was standing in front of him, gently prying his right hand off the needle. Whatever the substance was that had been in there was gone, so she carefully pulled it out of his arm (this, luckily, caused no blood.)

The brunette studied the equipment, “did you take this from the inventory?”

“I-“ he tried to lie- really, he did- but he couldn’t, “yes.”

Lola quickly went through the category of substances that went into needles. There wasn’t much; steroids, a select series of drugs- her eyes widened, looking up at the older man. Vanya’s autobiography (it seemed like a different lifetime that she’d read it in Griddy’s) mentioned her brother’s struggles to keep the ghosts at bay and she rightfully assumed that the warfront was rife with them, “oh, _Klaus_ ,” she murmured sympathetically.

The man winced, his arm dropping to his side, his head bent to avoid meeting the girl’s eyes. He’d never cared when Reginald or his other siblings had caught him- they’d always looked at him with something close to disdain, anyway- but this was the first time he’d be _losing_ something. It had been expected of him all of the other times, but Lola, with her limited knowledge of his past, had somehow deemed him worthy of respect and a strange sort of sibling camaraderie. Surely, now that she’d found out, everything he’d gained would be lost.

“Why didn’t you _tell_ me?”

The man’s head lifted and he was surprised to see the hurt expression on her face, though it didn’t stop the guilt he felt at seeing _her_ hold the needle, “I didn’t want to get you involved, Jellybean,” he answered, choosing to ignore the more truthful response.

“I could have helped,” Lola told him gently, reaching out to grasp his hand. He tried to pull away but she didn’t let him, “I have access to this stuff, y’know. It’s not like I don’t know what drugs _are_ ,” she paused before adding, “I know why you’re using them.”

His expression turned confused, “how?”

“Your sister’s autobiography,” the brunette answered, “I read it and she talked about-“

“I know what she talked about,” Klaus interrupted hurriedly. Eavesdropping was not unheard of in camp.

“Right. Well, I would’ve understood. I mean, I do.”

“I-“ he sighed heavily, running his free hand over his face, uncharacteristically serious as he said, “I’m not the type of role model you want, Princess. Nobody could make a superhero out of me.”

“You don’t have to be a superhero,” Lola told him softly, “and I don’t want a role model. I already have one of those.”

“Then-“

“You-“ she hesitated, uncertain as to whether she _really_ wanted to voice the idea, but she knew what she needed to make survival in camp easier, “you could be my brother.”

Klaus’ familiar slightly goofy, slightly self-deprecating smile appeared on his face, “I’d be a pretty shitty brother, Jellybean.”

“That’s alright,” she said, her tone lightening, “I’ve never had a brother, so if you mess up, I’ll just assume that’s what you’re supposed to do,” she held up the needle, “and when you need one of _these_ , come tell me. I don’t want you getting caught. Now, let’s go see why Dave was looking for you.”

“Aye-aye, Captain.”

\--

Not every day was remotely close to happy, of course. Most were just muddled through as best as possible with the hope that the next day would be better. On the days Klaus spent in camp, Lola saw more action than he did when soldiers couldn’t make it through the afternoon. She relied heavily on her newfound brother, especially after trying to make it a point to use the soldiers’ names. Their loss of anonymity made it much harder when they passed, though Lola thought that at least _someone_ should remember them when they left. The nurses told her, of course, that their families would have that duty, but what if they didn’t _have_ families?

Sometimes the men were lucky- or unlucky, as Nurse Commander was rather fond of saying- and recovered enough to fight again. Lola would see them in a camp and greet them by name, usually catching their surprised looks, followed by one of confusion as they tried to figure out if they knew _her_. Lola’s constitution had improved over the months and she could now smell and even see blood without the urge to vomit immediately following. It made it easier to talk to the soldiers as she cleaned around their cots, since she could focus on what she was saying instead of keeping everything where it was supposed to be.

It was always hard when a cot containing a soldier she’d been talking to the day before was suddenly empty, the man passing in the night without anyone noticing. She’d remember their conversations and hope that they had a family to miss them. Sometimes, it made her think of her _own_ family and she wondered what they thought she was doing.

Having read several time-traveling books, Lola knew that the passage of time could be different in one place than another so while it had been six months for her, it might have only been four days for her parents. Still, she knew her mother would be frantic and her father would be distracted. Her uncle would most likely remain calm and serene, as if he’d expected this to happen and knew how it would turn out- as he always seemed to do when something big was happening (not that things of that magnitude happened often.)

Still, some days when soldiers she knew better than others lost their life, it hit her in ways she didn’t expect. Before now, Lola had had very little experience with loss but the war was making her well-acquainted with it. It didn’t make losing people she knew any easier, especially when they had features that resembled her family members. Sometimes, men had bright blue eyes like her uncle and father. They had the chocolate-brown hair her mother had, or female soldiers had it cut in the bob-and-bangs style her mother always preferred. Sometimes they had her father’s nose or her mother’s mouth. A few had her uncle’s unruffled temperament and intelligence behind their eyes.

It was on the days she lost those look-alikes that she couldn’t keep her carefully-held-in-check emotions at bay, and she’d often find a quiet corner of camp to curl up and cry- or sob- in. When she returned, none of the nurses mentioned her puffy eyes or tear-streaked face, too caught up in their own predicaments to notice- or care- about anyone else’s. Lola knew it wasn’t necessarily because they were self-centered or cruel, it was just easier to remain unattached- something she _couldn’t_ do. Humanity was always a fragile thing, and in war times it was almost _more_ important to hold on to.

Sometimes Lola wished she could turn hers _off_ , but the fear that it couldn’t be turned back on again was always there so she willingly endured through it. It was only when she had days that she thought she _couldn’t_ make it through did she seek comfort from someone else. Everyone was going through their own problems so she didn’t want to seem like she couldn’t handle _hers_ , so she tried to keep to herself as best she could, but some days she gave in.

The first day had caught her by force, not even alone time enough to sort out her painful feelings, so she- somewhat reluctantly- made her way to Klaus’ tent and hoped the man was in there. Klaus and Dave were the only two in there by some stroke of luck and she stumbled towards them, landing haphazardly on Klaus, who exclaimed, “whoa, Princess, are you okay?”

She gave a sob and the man looked helplessly at his lover, who sighed. Dave still didn’t know how someone could be so… _perfect_ could be so shite with emotions. He gently maneuvered the girl so she sat between them, her face both pale and splotchy red from crying, her eyes watery and puffy as she looked up at him, seeking comfort that was hard to come by in this place. (Sometimes they both forgot she was only fifteen- though Klaus had never figured out how she’d gone by Dolores one day and Lola the next.)

“Do you like to read?” Dave asked the brunette, an idea sparking.

He was pleased when she almost immediately brightened, “yes,” she admitted, her voice still quiet.

“Have you ever heard of _Dune_?”

\--

Klaus and Dave left for another mission in their tenth month. As always, Lola’s mind replayed the statistics, louder now that the two people she was closest two were gone. _One out of every ten Americans who served was a casualty. 58,148 soldiers were killed, 304,000 were wounded-_

They were supposed to have been gone another week- the usual length for missions, as any longer increased the probability of death exponentially- but something had gone wrong. Lola could _feel_ it in the tense air of the camp as the based soldiers listened to the distant gunfire. A truck carrying wounded soldiers- most were left out in the field unless they could be collected quickly- trundled into camp early in the morning. The injured men were hollow-eyed and gaunt, some of them having left the week before.

It was only when Klaus stumbled off the back did Lola realize what _really_ went wrong- he was supposed to still be gone, so he must have snuck on to the truck. She could hear his anguished cries, even from a distance and she ran towards him, wrapping her arms around the man’s waist. He’d gotten better at hugging since the first time, and his arms immediately returned the gesture as he sobbed into her hair. The brunette didn’t even need to ask what had happened, her heart sinking as she clung tightly to the older man.

She hadn’t known Dave nearly as well as Klaus had, but from what she’d learned, he was one of the best men she knew. She’d been happy for Klaus, knowing that finding love in such a terrible situation was something precious and needed to be held on to tightly.

“Now.”

The brunette looked up at the man’s hoarse whisper and he continued, staring blankly ahead, “we can go home now.”

_One out of every ten Americans who served was a casualty-_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've mentioned in my reply to a few of last week's comments that I've always wanted an OC to go to Vietnam with Klaus. There's only one Five x OC story that I know where that's happened, written by the author **BakeItTillYouMakeIt** (I don't know how to @ people in the notes lol) and I took some inspiration from their Vietnam chapter(s) in their work _Five's Favorite_ which is really good and I recommend checking it out! 
> 
> Lola felt a little Mary-Sueish to me here but I tried basing her personality off of what I re-read from the early chapters of _I Won't Back Down._ To me, she does seem the type to want a more personable interaction, even at the cost of her own comfort so that's what I went with. I just hope she doesn't seem overboard "good person" if that makes sense. 
> 
> Also, I'm sorry for ending the chapter on such a sad note but hopefully next chapter will be happier... though how happy can you get while stopping an apocalypse??


	10. There's No Place Like Home

Luther and Diego laid the two teens down on the single bed. The second they were released from the older Hargreeves’ grasp, the two found each other again, Dolores wrapping her arms tightly around the boy as she curled up, relaxing against him. The brothers stared at the younger two, taking in how their brother subconsciously tucked Dolores’ head underneath his, one of his hands cradling against her dark hair, protecting her head, while the other wrapped securely around her.

“I don’t know how she stands him,” Diego observed, “he’s always such a prick.”

“Well, their attitudes match perfectly,” Luther said, his tone irritated.

His brother smirked, “you don’t like her calling you out on your stupidity, do you?”

“They’ll both be back to their normal, unpleasant selves in no time.”

“Yeah, I can’t wait that long. I need to find out what their connection is with these lunatics before someone else dies.”

“All that stuff he was saying before… what d’you think he meant by that?”

Diego glanced up suddenly, noises from above catching his attention. Listening closely, they could hear footsteps approaching and the two brothers looked at each other, the dark-haired man pulling out one of the many knives he kept on his person. Creeping quietly towards the door, he cracked it slightly and took aim.

“You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I’m pressin’ charges!” a man’s voice complained.

“What do you want, Al?”

“I ain’t your secretary,” the older man said sternly.

“Yeah.”

“Some lady called for you, said she needs your help.”

“What lady?” Diego asked.

“I dunno. Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was, uh, Blotch or somethin’.”

“Patch?” Al gave a noncommittal shrug, “she needs your help. She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump on Calhoun.”

“When?” he demanded.

“About half an hour ago. Uh, said she found your brother and some wife.”

The two Hargreeves looked at each other, then at Five and Dolores, “well, that makes no sense,” Diego said, and then realization hit them, “Klaus.”

“Go, I’ll wait here with-“ Luther started, but his brother was already gone. _Wife_ still didn’t make sense, seeing as Five was the only married one- as strange as that was- and Dolores was right in front of him. She was no concern of his, though, so he quickly dismissed the thought.

\--

Five was the first to wake in the unfamiliar surroundings, the only thing he recognized being Dolores’ comfortable weight against him. As he grew more aware of the setting, though, he noticed Luther’s obnoxiously large frame pacing around the dingy room. The boy sat up slowly as to not wake his wife, carefully maneuvering her head so that it rested in his lap as he ran his fingers soothingly through her dark hair.

Luther- unfortunately- noticed his movements and his attention snapped towards the bed, “oh, good, you’re awake,” he pulled a nearby chair over and continued without bothering to lower his voice, “now you can explain what the hell is going on.”

Five gave a quiet, long-suffering sigh, knowing that Dolores- if she were awake- would encourage him to share, “fine. What do you want to know?”

“When’s it supposed to happen?” Luther asked with a deep breath, “this… apocalypse.”

“I can’t give you the exact hour, but from what I could gather, we have four days left.”

“Why didn’t you say something sooner?” he demanded.

The boy shook his head, glancing down at the dark-haired girl, “it wouldn’t have mattered.”

“Of course it would!” Luther immediately countered, “we could’ve banded together and helped you try to stop this thing.”

“For the record, you already tried,” Five admitted quietly.

“What do you mean?”

“I found all of you,” he whispered, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of Dolores’ silky hair running through his fingers to keep grounded to the present, “your bodies.” _It was the one thing he never explicitly told her._

Luther stared at him, “we die?”

“Horribly,” he murmured, “you were all together, trying to stop whoever it was that ends the world.”

As if sensing the uncomfortable turn the conversation was taking, the girl shifted in his lap, her expression scrunching slightly as new memories continued to filter in through her dreams. Five gently brushed his fingers against her cheek, comfortingly reassuring her that he was there.

“How do you know that?” his brother asked.

The boy reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the prosthetic eye, “this was clutched in your dead hand when I found you,” he tossed it to the larger man, “must’ve ripped it out of their head right before you went down.”

“Whose head?”

“Like I said, I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s a serial number on the back. Think maybe you could-“

“No that’s a dead end,” Five answered, cutting him off. He was grudgingly willing to share _some_ information, but not everything, “it’s just another hunk of glass.”

The door banged open suddenly as Diego stormed in, the loud, sharp sound startling Dolores awake as she jerked upright, her eyes wide and face pale as she clamped her hands over her ears. Diego paid her no mind as he marched toward the boy, “piece of shit! Do you have any idea what you just did?”

Luther stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path as he lifted his brother off his feet, “ _get your ape hands off me!”_

“I can do this as long as it takes for you to calm down,” Luther said mildly, his grip tightening.

Five ignored his brothers, instead turning to the startled brunette. Placing a hand on her arm, he gently tugged on it until she lowered her hands from her ears, still looking as if she’d been jolted out of a memory, “Dolly?” he prompted softly, encouraging her attention to focus on him.

The second her eyes found his, the girl instantly relaxed, the drawn expression her face wore smoothing out as she leaned forward to sink against his chest, her arms wrapping around him.

“Now, wanna tell us what you’re talking about?” Luther asked after he’d put his brother down.

“Our brother has been pretty busy since he’s gotten back,” the man ground out, “he was in the middle of that shoot out at Griddy’s and then at Gimbel Brother’s after the guys in masks attacked the Academy, looking for _him_.”

“None of which is your concern,” Five answered coldly, his arms still wrapped tightly around his wife.

“It is now,” Diego declared, “they just killed my friend.”

“Who are they, Five?” Luther asked.

“They work for my former employer, The Handler. She sent them to stop me. Then, as soon as Diego’s friend got in their way,” he shrugged, “well, fair game.”

“And now they’re my fair game,” the man growled out, “and I’m gonna see to it they pay,” he spun around and headed for the stairs.

“That would be a mistake, Diego,” Five called after him, “they’ve killed people far more dangerous than you.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” was his only response before slamming the door shut, causing the brunette to flinch again.

“Former employer? What’s this really about? And don’t give me any of this ‘it’s none of your business’ crap, alright?”

“Give us a minute, would you?” the boy asked testily, glancing down at the girl. Luther’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t protest but he knew his brother wouldn’t budge so he left the room.

Once he was gone, Five pulled away slightly from the girl, trying to gauge how she was feeling. Dolores reluctantly let go of the boy, sitting up properly and brushing her hair back into place to occupy her hands as they sat in silence for a moment, though Five’s eyes never left her.

“How are you feeling?” the question was said tentatively, as if he wasn’t sure that was the appropriate thing to ask.

Dolores frowned, trying to take stock of everything her mind was trying to process before answering, “like a computer, I think.”

“Huh?”

She allowed herself a small smile at the inarticulate response, “I’ve got nineteen tabs open, three are frozen and I have no idea where the music is coming from,” she sighed, “there’s a lot going on in my head right now. I think we really messed up the timeline.”

 _Well, obviously_ , was his first response, but Five managed to swallow it back with effort. Even with his limited understanding of emotions, he knew sarcasm wasn’t going to help. So, instead, he asked, “what’s the original version of you doing?”

The brunette furrowed her brows, concentrating past the sharp ache in her head- both from the alcohol and new memories- to the scenes that had formed while she’d been sleeping, “I’m with Klaus,” she started slowly, “there’s… a lot of loud noise. Guns, I think. It’s hot and humid,” then, her face screwed up and she clutched her stomach, “oh, _god,_ I think I’m gonna be sick.”

In a flash of blue, Five returned with a waste bin and carefully pulled her hair away from her face as the girl clutched at the sides of the container, hacking unpleasantly as the smell of blood lingered in her memories. While she hadn’t actually consumed any solid food since the week started, she was still glad for the bin and wiped her mouth when she recovered, still pale and slightly shaky as she tried to joke, “I would _never_ get up to this much trouble. Klaus is a terrible influence.”

“That was because of blood, right?” the boy questioned, too worried about her wellbeing to joke around.

“Yeah,” the brunette said, wincing, “I still can’t process the details. Everything feels extremely loud and incredibly close all at once. It’s like I’m trying to process months of memories in the span of minutes.”

“Is there anything I can do?”

Dolores’ expression softened, knowing how much her discomfort made him want to _do_ something about it (just like his did for her), but she truly didn’t think there _could_ be anything except for waiting it out and- “could you hold my hand?”

Five gave her a slightly surprised look before immediately reaching over to intertwine their fingers. As was tradition, three squeezes followed soon after.

"You know you don’t have to ask, Dol.”

She gave him a faint smile, “I know,” her attention turned to the waste bin and she grimaced, “I’m sorry, that was probably not very attractive.”

He mirrored her expression and forced himself to try to relax by joking, “well, it’s a good thing I didn’t marry you for your appearance.”

Dolores’ mouth dropped open in mock offense as she stared at him in shock, “excuse you, but I _happen_ to be very good looking!”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

She huffed, “my husband. Or at least I _thought_ he had.”

The boy scoffed, “ _you_ said that about _me_.”

The girl turned pink, “shut up. I was going through teenage hormones!”

“So you _don’t_ think I’m attractive anymore?”

She opened her mouth to protest until she caught sight of the smug look on the boy’s face, “oh, so now you’re fishing for compliments?”

“I don’t need to fish for them, Dol, if you give them to me willingly.”

She glared at him, though there was no real heat in her expression as she hit him three times on the shoulder, the boy ducking out of the way as she grumbled out, “shut _up_ ,” as he laughed, trying to use his arms to block her blows.

When she finished, the boy sobered quickly, “Luther’s waiting outside.”

Dolores sighed, “can’t we just leave him there?”

He sent her a faintly amused look, “I wish, but weren’t you the one telling me to get help from my siblings?”

“Not _him_.”

“Well, he’s the only one we got right now.”

\--

“They turned me into the perfect instrument for rehabilitation of the time continuum or ‘corrections’ as they called them,” Five explained to Luther shortly after that, “I wasn’t the only one. There were others like me. Beings out of time, fractured, extracted from the lives that they knew. I don’t know how they got there, but I do know that none of them were as good as me,” he paused, comforted by the feeling of Dolores’ hand in his, “they didn’t realize it, but I was biding my time, trying to figure out the right equation so I could get back. If I could just get back, I knew I could stop the apocalypse, save the world. So I- we- broke our contracts.”

“Our?” Luther questioned, looking at the brunette suspiciously.

“Dolores worked there too. Not in the field,” he added quickly.

“Case management,” was the girl’s explanation, which didn’t really clear things up for Luther.

Instead, he turned to his brother, “so, you were a hitman?”

“Yes.”

Dolores could see the contention on the man’s face and could guess what he was going to say before he even spoke, “I mean, you had a code, right? You didn’t just kill anybody?”

“No code,” the boy answered bluntly, “we took out anyone who messed with the timeline.”

“What about innocent people?”

“It was the only way I could get back here,” Five said defensively.

“But that’s murder!”

Dolores scoffed, “jesus, Luther, grow up. We’re not kids anymore. There’s no such thing as good guys or bad guys. There’s just people, going about their lives,” her words quieted at the end of the sentence as she remembered the echo that came from them, of her uncle telling her that in what seemed like another lifetime.

“When the world ends, all those people die,” Five continued, “including our family. Time changes everything.”

\--

Klaus and Lola reappeared in the same setting in which they’d left 2019.

The abrupt change of surroundings was shocking and it took a several moments for the brunette to adjust, sitting rigidly in the plastic chair that lined the side of the bus as she stared blankly out at nothing. Klaus was in a far worse state than she was, still reeling from the loss of his lover. The briefcase that had taken them to the past was gripped tightly in his bloody hands as he, too, stared sightlessly ahead.

As the new settings slowly sank into her consciousness, Lola leaned against the older man’s arm, trying to comfort him but knowing anything she tried would fall far, far too short. She closed her eyes, letting the relative silence of the bus ride wash over her. In all her years of living, she’d never realized how _quiet_ Toronto was.

The city was as noisy as most, with the constant sound of cars and people traffic, but compared to Vietnam, it was absolutely _serene_. There were no constant explosions or loud shouts of soldiers, there was no frequent threat of death or smell of blood. A random bus in the middle of the city felt positively _safe_ and Lola promised herself she would never take that feeling for granted again.

Next to her, she felt Klaus break down, the sobs wracking his body as he cried and her heart broke for him. While she didn’t know what romantic love was herself, she was not lacking in empathy for those who’d lost a loved one and, as she’d gotten to know Klaus, she knew he didn’t have many so any loss was a major blow.

Reaching up slightly, she wrapped her arms around his and hugged his arm to her until the bus slowed to a stop. Supporting the older man, the two made ungraceful departure from the vehicle as they stumbled out onto the street, his weight unusual and top heavy on her small frame. The man pulled away from her and tripped forward, slamming the time-travelling device on the ground in anger and loss. Lola watched him silently, knowing better than to interfere.

She flinched slightly as a gust of fire exploded from the briefcase, but otherwise remained still, even as Klaus screamed his grief into the streets. She watched silently as he fell to his knees on the stone, falling onto his side when he couldn’t support himself.

The brunette wondered what sort of picture they made to other pedestrians. A middle-aged, dark-haired man who’d so obviously seen better days, collapsing onto the ground in grief after destroying a normal-looking briefcase. A young girl who, by all means, should be in school, gaunt and thin with haunted eyes who had seen more in ten months than what anyone her age had probably ever had. No one paid them any mind, though. No one glanced their way, wondering what had caused such a scene. They just kept walking, too caught up in their own business to spare a glance at two strangers.

The world was far colder than she’d ever realized.

\--

Eventually, the pair had the regained enough sense to start walking. Lola fiddled with her fingers as they made their way to an unknown destination, her gaze trained on the ground as she mulled over how to say that she wanted her parents.

What came out was, “I want to go home.”

There was no response.

“I need my parents,” she tried again, her voice still quiet, “they’ll be worried about me.”

Klaus stared at her uncomprehendingly.

Finally, she forced out the question she didn’t want to ask, “can I leave?”

Klaus’ first instinct was to protest. He’d already lost Dave, he didn’t want to lose the only other person who seemed to care about him. Still, _he’d lost Dave_. He didn’t _deserve_ \- “you don’t need my permission, Jellybean,” his voice sounded terribly hollow and far away, as if someone- perhaps a ghost- was using it.

Lola gave the man a concerned look, “I don’t want to leave you, though.” She knew him well enough that he wouldn’t cope well with the loss. After all, who would?

“I can manage on my own,” was his careless response.

The brunette sighed. She _longed_ to go home, to take a shower, to return to the safety of her parents, but she knew from that answer alone that she shouldn’t. No one should grieve on their own, after all- especially not Klaus. Besides, she looked terrible. She wasn’t ready to explain to her parents why she looked like she’d aged ten years, why her clothes were completely different than when they’d last seen here, where she’d been for however much time had passed.

Lola was entirely too tired to do that much explaining- and to deal with her mother’s overbearingness- in her present frame of mind. She was, quite frankly, still processing everything and she didn’t know if she would ever finish completely.

Nothing else was said on the topic and soon the gates of the Academy came into view, so familiar and yet oddly foreign at the same time.

\--

Lola waited for Klaus to get out of the bathroom feeling strangely out of place in a _boy’s_ \- _man’s_ \- room, even after everything that had happened. A part of her _was_ still a fifteen-year-old girl, after all. She sat primly on his bed, half-afraid of touching anything. Had she come here _before_ Vietnam, she would have been curiously exploring every part of the room. Now, she couldn’t even be bothered and was, in fact, slightly wary of what Klaus could be hiding.

The man returned not long after, a towel wrapped around his waist. Lola closed her eyes for a moment to allow him to change before opening them again- months spent in a soldier’s camp not truly ridding her of propriety, especially for someone she knew.

They spent the time in complete silence, neither willing to talk about all they’d experienced. Instead, Lola tried to process as best she could while suppressing the more terrifying memories. It was only a gentle knock on the door that brought her back to the present, and when her gaze focused on the intruder, her eyes widened slightly.

“You okay?” the boy asked softly, only noticing his brother for the moment.

“Hey. Yeah, I just… long night.”

“More than one, from the looks of it,” he remarked.

“Yeah,” the man answered, pulling on a shirt.

“Don’t remember the dog tags.”

“Yeah, they belong to a friend,” Klaus said, holding them in his hands, a look of sadness evident on his face.

Lola finally found her voice again, though quiet as she asked, “you’re Five?” remembering Klaus’ descriptions and Vanya’s book.

The boy turned his eyes on her and they widened as he shifted slightly in the doorway, seemingly blocking something.

“Well, shit.”


	11. Impossible Things are Happening Everyday

“ _Well, shit._ ”

Dolores huffed in annoyance as Five moved directly into her path and she tried to gently push him to the side, “Five, _move_ ,” she insisted, annoyed.

He did, though not in the way she wanted to and instead the boy turned around to face her, concern evident on his face, “how are you feeling, Dolly?”

The girl’s eyes narrowed, “I’d feel a lot better if you weren’t standing the way. Let me talk to my brother-in-law. We have to have _some_ sort of relationship, you know.”

“That’s not- never mind. I’ll meet you back at my room, yeah?”

“No.”

“ _Dolly_.”

Irritated with how he was being, she placed her hands on her hips and didn’t flinch from his- mostly worried- look, “ _Five_ ,” she repeated in the same tone of voice.

“Do you need water? Is it too hot in here?” he asked, ignoring her frustration.

“If this is another crack at my earlier _hormonal reaction_ , I’m not in the mood,” she told him flatly, “now get out of my way.” (It was in times like these that she felt his powers had been unfairly distributed- why did the most _stubborn_ person get a way of moving around objects while she didn’t?)

The boy straightened in the doorway, using his (considerably lesser, now that he was younger) width to prevent her from entering the room, spreading his legs so that they were placed next to both sides of the door frame. For all of his genius, though, he’d forgotten one thing- people without powers were more resourceful in finding other ways around things besides through walking. She dropped to the ground.

“Dol-“ Five’s sentence trailed off as he watched her crawl between his legs and stand up behind him, facing Klaus.

“You’re absolutely _ridiculous_ ,” he muttered, turning back around with the only hope of _possibly_ salvaging things before they could get worse. (If they weren’t on a time crunch, he _might_ have admired her stubbornness.)

“Oh, _Klaus_ ,” Dolores said softly as she took in the man’s ragged appearance- though much improved by the bath- and her eyes flicked to the ground to follow the trail of bloody footprints that had led them to the room before they focused on the man again, “what happened?”

There was no response, though, for the Hargreeves was staring at her with wide eye before his head slowly turned to look towards his bed, then back at her again. After a moment of silence, he asked quietly, “am I still high or are there really two of you?”

Dolores blinked. _Two?_ She followed the line of sight back to where Klaus had been looking and she froze. She swore she could _feel_ her heart stop beating for a second as she stared into the eyes of her younger self, though not one she recognized. While she’d always been on the paler, thinner side- thanks to her dislike for most physical activity paired with a faster metabolism- _she_ (Dolores wasn’t quite sure what to call herself) was positively haggard, with distant, tired eyes. It looked as if her double had already _survived_ an apocalypse, not _about_ to.

The silence in the room was almost deafening as the two men waited to see what the Doloreses would do. To her credit, Lola only looked mildly shaken as she stared at a much _cleaner_ version of herself, “who-“ she started, her voice much fainter than Dolores remembered.

“Who do you _think_ I am?” she asked sharply, her (sweaty) hands already balling subconsciously into fists. Even though, logically, Dolores knew this was herself, she did _not_ like this imposter- _she_ didn’t even look like her from Dolores’ memories of her younger years.

Lola flinched slightly at the sharp tone, her eyes flicking to the boy still standing in the doorway, “that’s Five, right?” she asked again, her question not having been answered.

Dolores opened her mouth to answer ( _yes, you idiot. Of course it’s Five)_ , but the boy cleared his throat slight and stepped up to the standing brunette, “yeah, I’m Five. How did you know?”

Dolores didn’t like how the boy’s eyes were trained on her younger self, slightly wider than usual as he stood stiffly next to her. _He didn’t_ need _to be talking to_ her, the brunette thought, her previous annoyance strengthening towards anger. The logical part of her mind that had always been stronger than normal still held sway over her words and actions, though, and it talked her down from reacting, only swallowing harshly against her dry mouth, though it felt like pins and sandpaper.

“I read your sister’s book,” came Lola’s soft reply, her eyes wide and cheeks regaining some color as she stared at the boy in front of her, “and Klaus told me about you. Um,” she hesitated, tearing her gaze away from the boy to look at Klaus, though the man was no help as he still seemed to be struggling to wrap his head around the situation. Lola turned her attention back to Five, “he said… well, apparently-“

“Spit it out, you-“ Dolores was tired of her own mumbling; she thought she remembered being more well-spoken, but maybe she was mistaken. She barely saved herself from calling _herself_ stupid.

“He said we’re married,” Lola finished quickly, her pink cheeks reddening as she ducked her head.

“Yeah, we-“ Five started, almost _too_ eagerly for Dolores’ opinion (truthfully, he’d replied normally and it only _seemed_ faster to Dolores’ frazzled mind.)

“ _No,_ you’re not,” the brunette told herself sharply, “he’s _married_ to _me_. Not to you. Besides, you’re too young to be married. Get your own Five.”

Lola looked confused, “but aren’t we-“

“The same person?” Dolores finished, petty enough to not let herself complete her sentences, “yes, but not from the same timeline. Speaking of timeline, what were you _thinking_ , messing it up how you did? _War_? Why on _earth_ would you not use your brain and go home right away? Don’t you know the peril you put _us_ in? It’s execrable. Look at what it _did_ to you- _us_ \- you were never like this before, it made you timorous! The timeline was just fine as it was without _you_ messing it up! You are the apotheosis of bad decision making. Truthfully, I’m _embarrassed_ to have you as doppelgänger. In fact, I’d surmise that you’re more of an effigy than a counterpart, you- you- noisome _Scarabaeus viettei_.”

Dolores Hargreeves had never been one to resort to physical violence when she was angry (or annoyed, or irate, or any synonym of the word)- she had always left _that_ part of the emotion up to Five- but she _did_ have full use of the English and other language(s) that she used liberally when she needed to.

When she was finished, the brunette was breathing just as heavily as if she’d been engaged in _actual_ combat and her red face rivaled her counterpart’s, who was staring at her dumbfounded (though there was no part of that sentence Lola didn’t understand.) Once she’d taken several breaths, she continued hotly, “in fact-“ she started, taking a step forward.

 _That_ was when Five leapt into action- though he knew well enough she wouldn’t bring herself to _physical_ harm- and gently grasped both of her wrists, pinning them to her sides so he could turn her to the door, “that’s quite enough from you,” he told her firmly, frog-marching her towards the hall, “go to my room. I’m going to be right there.”

He tentatively released her and when he had, she rounded on him, blue eyes snapping with anger as she opened her mouth, determined to give whoever got in her way a piece of her mind. Unfortunately for her, though, Five was not as easily cowed by a few sentences and he pointed sternly down the hall, “ _go_.”

She gave him a rather disgusted look for his dog-like command, but thankfully, the brunette listened and turned on her heel without another word.

\--

Dolores closed Five’s door with a loud (and rather childish) _slam!_ that didn’t really make her feel better. She paced angrily around the small space, positively fuming as her thoughts raced through her head in barely comprehensible sentences. As tempted as she was to throw something though, she’d never been prone to fits of rage or temper tantrums as a child and that history was making itself known now as she only let her anger out through furious steps.

After an uncertain amount of time had passed, the rapid beating of her heart and whirling thoughts slowed to a more reasonable speed, allowing her a moment of respite as the situation began to dawn on her. Guilt was the next emotion she felt for the whole reason she’d _gone_ into the room was to check on Klaus and she really hadn’t done that. She’d allowed herself to get too caught up in the emotions so she forgot everything else, which really wasn’t like her- unless when it came to Five, of course. She winced as she remembered how angry she’d gotten at the one-word command, though she consoled herself that she could apologize to him when he got back.

It was only a few moments later that Five returned in a flash of blue, looking just as angry as her residual feelings felt and she immediately gave him a concerned look, “what’s wrong?”

“My idiot brother, that’s what’s wrong,” he all but seethed, barely keeping his tone civil, “we could have restarted this whole thing, but _no_ , he had to go and destroy the damn briefcase!” he rounded on her, “and your other self was of no help either-“

“ _Hey_ ,” Dolores said warningly, “I’m on your side, remember?”

The boy paused, his shoulders slumping, “sorry,” he mumbled.

“Me too,” she admitted, “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that, I should have listened-“

He gave her a wry smile, “you’ve always been stubborn, Dolly.”

“ _Me_?” she asked in disbelief before sighing, “yeah, you’re probably right.”

The boy’s expression softened slightly, “how are you feeling?”

“Still pretty angry,” she answered quietly, “but not as frazzled.”

“Good,” he said, “that’s good. Why don’t you rest?” he offered, “I have some math to do and you look like you could use it.”

“So do you,” the brunette pointed out.

“I’ll be fine,” Five told her, though he didn’t miss her doubtful look, “promise. Here,” he added, stepping towards her to grab her hand and lead her over to a chair by the window, “you can rest here for a bit until we’re ready to go.”

“Go?”

“Rest,” was the only insistent word as he gently pushed her down to sit.

Dolores wasn’t certain if she could, but somehow, she woke some time later to Five mumbling about his equations as he stood on his bed, the walls covered with numbers and diagrams in ways they hadn’t been before. As she adjusted to being awake, the brunette tuned into her husband’s ramblings and picked up mutterings about “Butterfly Effect” and “String Theory.”

Deciding she better check on him before the boy ended the world himself, Dolores rose with a grunt and stretched before approaching the bed Five was standing on, “move over,” she said, poking at his leg.

The boy pulled his gaze from the wall, “you should be resting,” he told her sternly.

“I’ve rested! Besides, I have to check your math.”

He huffed, shifting so that she could climb up next to him, “you’re lucky I love you.”

She smiled at him, “I love you too. Now, what were you blithering on about?”

Five gave her an offended look, “I don’t _blither_.”

“Sometimes,” she said with a shrug before smirking at him, “you’re lucky I love you.”

“You should just be glad I’m not going to push you off this bed,” he told her with mock sincerity, turning back to the wall, “and to answer your question, I’m trying to figure out who will cause the apocalypse.”

“That’s why you were talking about the Butterfly Effect.”

“Right.”

“And String Theory?”

“It’s a string theoretic interpretation of the graviton, every force is an exchange of particles,” he explained, “it’s a hypothetical model of time travel that-“

“The graviton is a massless string,” Dolores interrupted, suddenly reminded of when Five had first (tried) to teach her about the theory behind the equations instead of just the number patterns back in the apocalypse.

He gave her a surprised look, “yes, it is.”

“Cosmic strings are either infinite or they’re in loops, with no ends. The approach of two such strings parallel to each other would bend space-time so vigorously and in such a particular configuration that makes time travel possible.”

The boy stared at her as Dolores smiled triumphantly, “see? I _do_ listen.”

Five continued to look at her, awed. A shy smile curved on the girl’s lips at his starstruck expression and she ducked her head slightly at the attention until there was a clatter of chalk and a comfortingly familiar arm wrapped around her waist to pull her closer until they stood flush together on the bed.

“Where have you been hiding _that_?” he breathed, his eyes trained on her pink face.

The brunette shrugged modestly, “y’know. Here and there.”

“Well, you should go _here and there_ more often,” he murmured before pressing his lips to hers as he kissed her hungrily.

It was only when Dolores felt herself tip back that she reluctantly pulled away, pleasantly dizzy and lightheaded, “we probably shouldn’t do this standing on a bed,” she told him, panting slightly.

She was gratified when he didn’t release her right away, instead choosing to stare at her softly in a way that made her toes _actually_ curl as she looked back at him with equal adoration. They would have been content to stay like that for _much_ longer than they had time for, but unfortunately they had a world to save and, as much as Five loved Dolores, he wanted to be able to be _in_ the world with her, so he shook himself and forced his gaze to turn back to his (surprisingly) unappealing equations, only to realize he had no chalk.

“Damn,” he mumbled, patting his pockets to look for an extra piece.

“What is it?” the brunette asked worriedly as she watched him search for an unknown object.

“ _Somebody_ made me drop the chalk,” he said teasingly in order to cover up his embarrassment.

Dolores grinned, neatly hopping down from the bed to search for it on the floor, “was it because of your _hormonal attraction_?” she asked as she located the stick.

The girl stood, handing the piece to the boy, who glared at her, though the expression held little heat, “yes, in fact. You should to it more often. After all, you have a lot of catching up to do.”

She huffed indignantly, crossing her arms, “I’m going to stay down here just for that remark.”

“Have fun with that,” was the only sarcastic response that she got.

\--

As Five worked, Dolores resumed her pacing around his small room, reluctant to _rest_ even though she needed it- a part of her _did_ feel guilty that she got to slack off while her husband worked feverishly, so instead she paced and thought. As much as she enjoyed distracting the boy, she needed to get her own emotions in order to be focused for the next phase of saving the world, so she worked on folding up everything she was feeling into a tiny box that she could unpack at a later date and stuff it onto the tallest shelf, away from any easy-access reach.

“Oh,” the boy finally spoke, tapping his chalk against the wall, “I think I got something, Dolores. It’s tenuous but promising.”

The girl returned to stand next to his chair, looking up at the four names listed within a circle. She opened her mouth to prompt him to explain further, but Luther’s voice beat her in questioning, “what are you two doing?”

She turned, giving the large man an unfriendly look, “none of your business.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t asking you,” he retorted, “Five? What is all this?”

“It’s a probability map.”

“Probability of what?” Luther asked.

“Of whose death could save the world,” the boy explained shortly, glancing over his shoulder to look at his brother briefly, “I’ve narrowed it down to four.”

Luther pointed to the names, “are you saying one of these four people causes the apocalypse?”

“No, I’m saying that their death might prevent it,” he corrected, returning to his equations.

“I’m not following.”

Dolores sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers as she closed her eyes, “it’s not rocket science. Time is fickle, Luther. I’m guessing you’ve never heard of String Theory or the Butterfly Effect.”

“The what now?”

“The slightest alteration in events can lead to massively different outcomes in the time continuum,” Five said, “thus, the Butterfly Effect. So all I have to do is find the people with the greatest probability of impacting the timeline, wherever they may be, and kill them.”

The boy stepped down from the bed and picked up his well-worn copy of Vanya’s book before staring up at the wall to copy the names down on one of the mostly-blank pages.

Luther walked closer to the pair, squinting slightly to read off one of the names, “Milton Greene. So, who’s he? A terrorist or something?”

“I believe he is a gardener.”

He turned to stare at his brother, “you can’t be serious. This is madness, Five. You…” he began to protest, only to trail off as he watched Five pull a bag out from under the bed, “where’d you get that?”

“In Dad’s room,” the boy answered, unzipping it, “I think he used it to shoot a rhinoceros,” he lifted the rifle from the bag, “it’s similar to the model I used at work,” he continued, raising it onto his shoulder and coking it, looking through the scope, “nice shoulder fit and highly reliable.”

“But you can’t… This guy Milton is just an innocent man!”

“ _Jesus,_ Luther,” the brunette groaned, causing the man’s attention to turn to her.

“And you- you can’t be okay with this, can you? He’s going to _kill_ -“

“I know what he’s going to do,” she said flatly.

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Luther asked imperiously.

Dolores chose not to answer, and instead gave the man a level stare as Five replied, “it’s basic math. His death could potentially save the lives of billons. If I did nothing, he would be dead in four days anyway. The apocalypse won’t spare anyone.”

“Except for your precious wife, apparently,” Luther pointed out, “besides, we don’t do this kind of thing.”

“ _We_ are not doing anything,” Five retorted, “Dolores and I are.”

Luther missed the pleading look the boy gave the brunette, wanting her to back him on this. Dolores sighed, closing her eyes for a moment before opening them again. He was right, after all. Even if she didn’t completely agree with the strategy, she refused to show a divided front to anyone, much less Luther. She nodded, “he’s right. We don’t have time to figure out another way.”

His expression turned into one of relief, but her stern look told him that the discussion wasn’t over. He sighed.

“I can’t let you go and kill innocent people no matter how many lives you save,” Luther said firmly, giving the brunette an unfriendly look for not backing _him_ \- like she ever would.

“Well, good luck stopping me. Come on, Dolly,” he turned and started for the door.

The girl gasped as she was suddenly wrapped in a backwards bear hug, her toes lifted several feet off the floor. She squirmed in Luther’s grip, his strength acting like a vice around her body, her arms pinned immovably to her sides. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of being frightened, though; she didn’t scream, or cry or beg to be set free. Instead, she saved her breath as his arms tightened around her in boa-constrictor style as he spoke next, “you’re not going anywhere, Five.”

The boy whirled around, his eyes widening at the sight of his wife trapped in his brother’s inescapable grip. Immediately, he snatched up the rifle and aimed it at his brother, an terrible intensity on his face the Dolores was glad she was _not_ the recipient of, “put… her… _down_.”

“Put the gun down,” he brother told him evenly, “you’re not killing everyone. And don’t worry- I won’t kill her, she’ll probably just pass out.”

Five’s grip on the rifle tightened, “do you really think I wouldn’t shoot you to save her?”

“I know you would. I know she’s important to you, that’s why I’m going to have her tell you not to go,” his grip loosened slightly, “go on, then.”

She hadn’t been intending to side with him then and there was even less chance of that happening now. Instead, with her limited breath and slightly spotty vision (though surprisingly less painful than the headache she’d endured earlier in the week), she gasped out, “eat.. shit… ape… man.”

The man’s arms tightened around her considerably more than before, “it’s either her or the gun, you decide,” he said callously, no longer willing to give either party a chance to repent.

There was only a moment before Five threw down the gun, blinking away towards where his brother was holding his wife. Luther immediately dropped Dolores, causing her to collapse on the ground and massage her sides which felt bruised from the strong grip. As soon as Five reappeared, the brunette sank against him, not wanting to waste energy holding her own wait as she recovered her breath.

“Dolly?” the boy’s tone was worried, though she couldn’t see his face, “Dol, are you okay?”

“Just peachy,” she gasped out, still holding on to her sides, “god _dammit_ Luther.”

He turned cold eyes to Luther, his concerned expression nowhere in sight, “ _never_ touch her again, got it?” he asked, his tone a low growl, “If you even so much as _think_ about it, I won’t hesitate to put a bullet through that brain you don’t use.”

“I know you’re still a good person, Five,” Luther said as if the boy hadn’t spoken, “otherwise you wouldn’t have risked everything coming back here to save us all, but you’re not on your own anymore.”

“I never was,” the boy told him coldly, the instant he turned back to Dolores his expression softening.

She mirrored his look as she glanced up at him, pushing herself into a proper sitting position to wrap her arms around the boy, hugging him tightly to reassure him that she was alright. He returned the gesture with equal force, burying his face into the girl’s shoulder as he relaxed against her.

“We can do it,” she murmured into his ear, “the hospital-“

She felt him shake his head against her, “it might be too early,” he mumbled, “can’t risk it.”

“Surely there’s another way?” the brunette asked quietly.

The boy lifted his head from her shoulder to stare helplessly at her, “there is one way,” he said slowly, meeting her eyes in the hopes of silently communicating _exactly_ what it entailed, “but it’s just about impossible.”

Dolores reached forward and gently grasped Five’s hands with hers, “Fives?”

“Yeah?”

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned about your family, it’s that _impossible_ is not in your vocabulary.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... here it is! 
> 
> I hope it lived up to everyone's expectations. The only reason why I'm posting the chapter so late is because I wasn't confident about the Lola/Dolores meeting, but after obsessing about about it for almost a whole day, I didn't know how to improve it anymore so I had to leave it how it is. 
> 
> Anyway, you know that meme where it's "you guys are getting paid?" that's how I feel upon seeing how other authors write, except it's "you guys write drafts??" because the only way I can write a fic is if I do it at once. Very rarely do I go back and rewrite a scene (with some exceptions) and I just don't get it?? I mean, I don't even really do drafts for essay papers... everything that comes out pretty much has to be perfect on the first go (and, luckily, it's usually the best version.) Usually I just imagine it in my head until I write the scene, so I guess that's like drafting. But yeah, that's a little tip on how I write. Maybe it shows that I don't revise my work multiple times? Idk.


	12. A Strong and United Front

Dolores sat in the backseat of the blue car as Luther drove it down the country road, having been sent to the back because it was “statistically safer” according to her husband- though a part of her knew he also didn’t trust Luther to be in close proximity with her again. Too tired to be stubborn about it, she’d agreed while Five had taken shotgun. Now, the three of them sat in silence as they approached their destination, all lost in their own individual thoughts.

The brunette was currently thinking about their upcoming meeting with The Handler. She knew it was inevitable- that in order to have enough time, they’d _need_ to work with her- but if she had a choice, she’d never see that woman- if she could be called that- again. The white-haired woman gave her the creeps and Dolores _definitely_ didn’t like how The Handler interacted with her husband. After everything that had happened so far, she had a very minimal control of her emotions and she knew she’d have a hard time keeping her temper around the other woman.

The car pulled to a stop and almost immediately, the girl unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed through the middle of the two front seats to land herself on Five’s lap, curling up against him with her back pressed to the door as his arms wrapped around her supportively. She leaned her head against the boy’s shoulder, ignoring Luther’s slightly uncomfortable look as she took one of his hands in both of hers. They sat in silence for a few more minute before Five spoke suddenly, “you know, I never enjoyed it.”

Luther looked over at him, “what?”

“The killing,” he explained and, despite the thoughtful tone of his voice, Dolores could feel the boy’s frame coiled up tightly underneath her like a spring, “I mean, I was good at my work and I took pride in it, but it never gave me pleasure,” his hand reached up to absentmindedly stroke her hair, “I think it was the pressure to survive. That sort of solitude can do funny things to the mind.”

The brunette frowned, remembering the long days and even longer nights when Five had barely looked in her direction when he’d come back from a mission, then the interminable time when he was gone that followed.

“Yeah, well, you were gone for such a long time,” his brother agreed, “I only spent for years on the moon but that was enough for me.”

Dolores hesitated before she spoke, “I didn’t mind it.”

The boy tilted his head downwards to look at her, his brows furrowed, “what?”

“Being alone,” she clarified, “it was alright. You can only judge yourself when you’re alone, no one could hurt you, or make you feel bad about yourself. Or make you think you’re weird,” she sighed, “you can just… be.”

Five’s expression turned into one of faint surprise, “I didn’t know you thought that.”

A small smile graced her lips, “yeah, well. I haven’t been alone for a long time.”

Luther cleared his throat, drawing the pair’s attention away from each other as he gestured to the black briefcase sitting on the console, “you think they’ll buy it?”

“Well, what I know is that they’re desperate,” Five said, “it’s like a cop losing his gun. If The Commission finds out, they’ll be in deep shit. Oh, not to mention the fact that they’ll be stuck here until they get it back.”

“Well, I should hold on to it.”

“Hm?”

“In case they make a move on you.”

“Okay, Luther, but be careful,” the boy told him, “I mean, I’ve lived a long life, but you’re still a young man. You got your whole life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Dolores couldn’t help but feel a faint flicker of amusement, “Fives?”

“Yeah?”

“You _do_ know you’re younger than Luther right now, right?”

“Only physically, Dolly,” he replied lightly.

The mood quickly sobered as another car drove past them, stopping a few feet ahead of where they were parked.

“Here we go,” Five muttered.

“Show time,” the girl agreed, climbing out of the car.

The two assassins got out of their vehicle as the two Hargreeves men joined her, the Commission workers still wearing their costume masks. Before Five left his brother and wife by their car, he turned to the girl, a bittersweet look on his face as he started softly, “Dol, if this all goes south-“

The girl’s eyes narrowed, “don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“You just have to take into account-“

“I don’t have to take anything into account,” she interrupted him swiftly, “I’m coming with you.”

Now it was his turn to give her a stern look, “you better damn well believe that I’m not going to let you be collateral.”

“I know, so having me there will curb your reckless tendencies.”

“I am _not_ -“ he started to protest hotly, but at the sound of the assassin’s approaching footsteps, he cut himself off and glared at the brunette, knowing they didn’t have time to argue, “fine. Just let me do the talking, okay?”

She smiled sweetly at him as they fell into step together, “that was never the question, dearest.”

He rolled his eyes at her mocking tone though he showed he wasn’t _really_ annoyed by reaching down to grab her hand- The Commission already knew they were married, so there was no point in hiding it- and Dolores communicated wasn’t _truly_ irritated by squeezing his hand three times.

As the two pairs approached each other, Five called out, “are the masks really necessary?”

The two hitman exchanged a look before simultaneously removing their masks, throwing them to the side. The woman spoke first, “so, where is it, kid?”

“Wow, that’s how you’re gonna start,” Five said, shoving his free hand into the pocket of his shorts, though the hand grasping Dolores’ tightened in readiness of quick escape, “you know, we can get right back in our car and call it a day.”

“You won’t even make it halfway there,” Cha-Cha retorted, pulling out a handgun and aiming it at Five.

Dolores tensed, every instinct screaming at her to jump in front of her husband to block him from the path of potential bullets, but she remained firmly in her place knowing the slightest movement could trigger a negative chain reaction.

“Maybe,” the boy replied calmly, “but as I’m sure you found out in your previous foray, my brother is not your average giant.”

“He’s right,” Hazel agreed, “you dropped a chandelier on him, got right back up.”

“By the time you took him out, he’d smash your precious briefcase to a pulp,” Five continued.

“So, how do we help each other?” the man asked, waving his own gun around as he spoke.

“I need you to get in contact with your superior so I can have a chat with her face-to-face.”

“About what?” the woman questioned.

“Well, I don’t believe that’s any of your concern,” Five answered easily.

There was a moment’s hesitation as the woman clenched her jaw as she thought before she sighed, “just don’t tell her about the briefcase.”

“Fair enough.”

The two assassins lowered their guns, though neither Five’s nor Dolores’ eyes left their figures as both parties backed away from each other. The younger pair returned to where Luther was waiting for them at their car, watching from a distance as Cha-Cha used the payphone to make a call, holding the receiver to her ear as she pressed some buttons.

“What happens now?” Luther asked.

“Now, we wait,” the boy answered, leaning against the trunk of the car. Despite his nonchalance, however, his grip was still quite firm on Dolores’ hand.

Suddenly, a new sound was heard, breaking through the relative quiet of the countryside, the rev of an engine accompanied by a high-pitched version of “Ride of the Valkyries” and everyone turned in the direction of the noise to see an ice cream truck hurtling down the road at breakneck speed.

“Is that her?” Luther asked dumbly, watching the oncoming vehicle with confusion.

Dolores snorted at the thought, the answer to the question appearing as it passed the trio, Klaus sticking his head out of the window and waving his hand with the “Hello” tattoo on it at them, a wide smile beaming on his face. The brunette quickly scanned the other occupants of the truck and was relieved to see _she_ wasn’t present. The brunette made a mental note to go through her most recent memories to find out what had become of her past self.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Five questioned as the truck flew past.

“Go faster!” Diego’s cry could be heard over the accompanying music.

“It’s a set up!” Cha-Cha yelled as the vehicle hurtled straight towards them, the two assassins reacting by raising their guns and sending a spray of bullets towards Luther, Five and Dolores and the Hargreeves in the truck.

Luther stepped in front of the younger couple, shielding them from the oncoming shots, holding out his arms as the truck ran straight into the shooting pair, sending them flying through the air.

Then, time stood still.

Dolores wasn’t even aware she’d closed her eyes, but realized she had when she opened them again to see the scene around her completely still, as if someone had pressed _pause_ on a remote. The only other person who was moving was the boy next to her which she was immensely grateful for.

Luther’s large form stood stock still in front of them and the quickly-moving truck was frozen place. Hazel and Cha-Cha’s upward arc had them suspended in midair with their bullets sprayed- but still- around them. That wasn’t all that was strange, though. The sky appeared to be a more intense shade of blue while the trees had turned a bright shade of orange, the whole scene looking like a saturated picture.

“Neat trick isn’t it?” a woman’s voice broke through the silence, causing the two to turn to her.

 _The Handler._ She looked exactly like she did in Dolores’ memory. As she pulled the veil from her face, the girl could see that she still had her strange, white hair cropped short around her face, her lips painted a bright red. Dolores was certain she was wearing the same black trench coat she’d last seen The Handler in, complete with fingerless gloves covering hands that were holding a black briefcase.

“Hello, Five,” she continued, “you look good, all things considered.”

Dolores was not surprised when the woman failed to acknowledge her presence, though her gaze flicked to the brunette in recognition. Five spoke next, though his tone didn’t match his words, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Feels like we met just yesterday. ‘Course, you were a little bit older then,” she winked as if she’d said something clever, then focused her gaze on the girl as if just noticing her for the first time, “oh, hello, Dolores.”

The brunette gave her a tight smile in return and, not quite trusting herself to speak, gave her a brisk nod.

“Congratulations on the age regression, by the way,” the woman went on, “very clever. Threw us all off the scent.”

“Ah, well, I wish I could take credit. I just miscalculated the time dilation projections and, well, you know,” he gestured to the two of them, a fake smile on his face, “here we are.”

“You did magnificently, darling,” Dolores put in supportively, reaching to retake his hand. The boy’s expression turned surprised for a moment at her words before his eyes narrowed, catching on to what she was doing. She gave him an innocent look in return.

“You realize your efforts are futile?” The Handler said as if the brunette hadn’t spoken, placing her hands demurely behind her back, “so, why don’t you tell me what you really want?”

“I want you to stop to it,” Five answered bluntly.

“You realize what you’re asking for is next to impossible, even for me?” her painted lips stretched into an eerie grin, “what’s meant to be is meant to be. That’s our _raison d'être._ ”

Five used his free arm to move his blazer to the side and pulled out a hidden gun, raising it level to the woman’s chest, “yeah? Well, how about survival as a _raison_?”

If it wasn’t so inappropriate in their current situation, Dolores would have admitted she swooned a little at the gesture and his words. As it was, she pressed her lips into a thin line and was grateful The Handler seemed unaffected- though she wouldn’t have put it past her, as disgusting as that was- as she replied carelessly, “I’ll just be replaced. I’m but a small cog in a machine,” she stepped closer to him, causing the girl to stiffen, “this fantasy you’ve been nurturing about summoning up your family to stop the apocalypse is just that,” Dolores saw Five’s grip on the gun weaken as she came even closer, “a fantasy.”

Dolores couldn’t stand still any longer. She moved swiftly between the two, cutting the woman off, “that’s close enough,” she said sharply.

The Handler gave her a rather disdainful look, “and what can _you_ do to stop me?”

The brunette’s free hand fisted at her side, the long-buried urge to punch the woman in the face resurfacing as she replied, “oh, you have _no_ idea.”

“ _Dolly_ ,” Five hissed, tugging on the joined hands in an effort to pull her away, “ _not now_.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” The Handler chuckled lightly, “I’m quite enjoying this. Tell me, _Dolly_ exactly what you’re going to do.”

Dolores opened her mouth to respond, wanting _very_ much to speak her thoughts on the subject, but Five’s insistent pulling was quite distracting and no words came readily, so she closed her mouth again and stared stonily at the white-haired woman who gave an amused laugh and dismissed her without another thought, “exactly what I expected. Now, I must say, Five, though we’re all quite impressed with your initiative, your,” she paused, “stick-to-itiveness, it's really quite something, which is why we want to offer you a new position back at The Commission in management. You’ll remember the position well, I think.”

Five chuckled, “sorry. What’s that now?”

“Come back to work for us again,” her expression hardened, “you know it’s where you belong.”

“Well, it didn’t work out too well last time. And what about Dol-Dolores?” he stumbled over her name, unused to using the whole of it.

“But you wouldn’t be in the correction division any longer,” The Handler answered, addressing the first point, “I’m talking about the home office. You’d have the best health and pension and an end to this ceaseless travel. You’re a distinguished professional in,” she looked him up and down, “schoolboy shorts. As for _sweet_ Dolores, well, we could leave her here?”

“Never!” was exclaimed simultaneously, though Dolores’ was hotly while Five’s had taken on a cold edge.

The Handler sighed, “I thought as much,” she eyed the brunette, “I _suppose_ I could work a little office magic and pull a few strings to get her old job back, _but_ we don’t really support couples working in the same branch. It can get quite messy, you know?”

The boy’s expression hardened, “how badly do you want me to return?”

“Very well. Though, while we’re on the subject of changes, we have the technology to reverse the ageing process. I mean, _you_ can’t be happy like this,” her gaze was focused solely on Five again, her hand reaching up to rest on top of his gun as she slowly lowered it until it was pointing at the ground.

“I am happy,” he answered, glancing over at the brunette next to him.

“Oh, Five,” The Handler sighed in seeming disappointment, the hand on the gun reaching towards his face, “the search for happiness is a lifelong-“

Dolores’ hand shot out and gripped the woman’s wrist centimeters from the boy’s face, her expression hard and cold as she ground out, “ _touch him, and I’ll break your wrist._ ”

The Handler smiled pleasantly at the girl’s threat, entirely unaffected, while Five gave another insistent tug on her arm, “ _Dolores, no_ ,” he told her sharply, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

Five understood how dangerous The Handler could be and- to an extent- Dolores did, too. She wasn’t someone you messed with unnecessarily and he was surprised at how _reckless_ his wife was being. Usually- according to her, at least- that was _his_ department. They needed The Handler to be agreeable with them and threatening her with bodily harm would _not_ help. He couldn’t say as much, of course, so he stuck to the two-word phrase in hopes it would get Dolores’ attention.

The brunette hesitated, her burning gaze turning away from the white-haired woman at the sound of her husband’s voice to look at him, her brows furrowing slightly as she looked him over, checking to make sure he was alright. Reluctantly, she let go of the woman’s arm, “don’t even _think_ about it,” she warned, “or I’ll make good on that promise.”

The Handler gave her a polite- if not somewhat condescending- smile before turning her attention back to the boy, “I’m just saying, Five. We can make that happen. We can make you yourself again.”

“And what about my family?”

“What about them?”

“I want them to survive!”

The woman pursed her lips, looking around the scene. Barring the two _moving_ Hargreeves, the rest did, admittedly, look unimpressive, “all of them?”

“ _Yes_ , all of them,” he retorted.

“Well,” The Handler said, returning her sunglasses to her face, “I’ll see what I can do,” she held out her hand, “do we have a deal?”

“Yes. Just one thing,” he answered, walking to where the gun was lying on the road. He emptied the cartridge and threw both pieces to either side. As he returned to the two woman, he paused and glanced back at the bullet frozen in midair. Carefully, he adjusted it so that it would hit the car instead of his brother.

He joined his wife and The Handler, grasping the brunette’s hand tightly and then accepting the woman’s outstretched one. The three of them disappeared in a flash of blue as the scene around them resumed it’s chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little shorter than usual since I wanted to try and fit all of The Commission in one chapter, so next week's will be longer!


	13. Out of the Frying Pan, Into the Fire

**_2029_ **

The monotonous landscape of crumbled buildings and scattered rubble had faded into darkness as night fell, covering the landscape in a blackness so thick it was impossible to see your hand in front of your face unless you had a source of light. There were still no stars or moon in the sky most nights, the open space still covered by a thick- though less dense- cloud so the only light available was Five’s and Dolores’ fading fire that the boy- or, he supposed, _man_ , now that he was twenty-five- had started earlier in the evening.

The only use for the flame had been for warmth for there was little in the way of food and less in the way of water. Five had long since grown used to the sharp pangs of hunger that came with being stuck ten years into the apocalypse; while the earth _was_ recovering, it wasn’t nearly fast enough for two humans that needed daily nourishment. He knew Dolores felt them too, though they both tried their best not to complain for that would do little to make them feel better. Instead, the brunette had suggested that instead of food at once-daily mealtimes, they feed their minds. This consisted of debates on a series of topics that they both knew enough about to have an hour- or longer- discussion.

Today’s subject had been the existence of multiverses which, to his surprise, they both agreed existed. His, of course, came with the math to theoretically prove it. Dolores’ was based on pure belief so their different perspectives had provided an interesting conversation- or so he’d thought: the brunette was now asleep with her head in his lap. (A part of the reason for her lack of interest _could_ be that the repetitive motion of his fingers combing through her hair had lulled her into unconsciousness.)

Now he sat alone in the growing darkness, the faint remaining embers of the flame providing barely enough light for him to see the outline of Dolores’ face. He wasn’t sure how long ago she’d fallen asleep- time being nearly irrelevant in a post-apocalyptic world- but her breathing was deep and even, the sound audible enough in the otherwise silent night and, as she slept, he thought.

He often thought about a great many things, his mind never fully being able to rest, even in sleep. On this particular night his mind took him to his life in the Academy, his father’s voice a constant timbre over all the memories he had of the place. None of them were particularly pleasant but he found that he often took them out to examine them when time was allowed to think that if he had done something different what that outcome might’ve been. There were a thousand different possibilities, of course, hence the multiverse.

He then went forward in time to the present, _now_ , when he was alone except for the only other person in the world and what, exactly the statistics were that led to to cause this to happen. There was potentially a one in a billion chance that _Dolores_ was the person he ended up with. Somehow, he had and she was now present in every single memory he had since landing in this hell ten years ago. Somehow, that made his time here seem less… _unbearable_. He didn’t know how she did it but in the span of ten years she’d become the most important person to him. Another, more pleasant, permanent fixture in his existence.

Every equation had a constant. Without them, nothing could be solved. Five often preferred to think of his life as an equation and in that equation, one variable had to remain the same or else it would stop functioning. Until he was fifteen, his father had taken that place. Now, it was Dolores.

He wasn’t quite sure how it happened that she had come to replace his father but she had. He knew constants weren’t _supposed_ to change but sometimes the original formula was incorrect or improved upon due to another variable being added in to replace the old, so that was how he explained it. He had long since known she had become the one person he couldn’t live without, though putting it in the context of numbers was a more noticeable realization that made him consider a tangent of the equation: her safety.

 _Because_ Dolores was his constant, he needed to ensure she was protected especially because she was, essentially, powerless. Now, he did not mean this in terms of _weak_ , for she certainly was not, but in the actual definition of “power- _having_ ” like him and his siblings. His life at the Academy was nothing close to a cakewalk and danger had been around every turn, whether it be his father or the criminals The Umbrella Academy had fought. Saving the world would be no easy feat either once he got the equations right. He had no delusions that there would be those who would try to stop them- time was too fickle to be left to its own devices- and would provide an extra threat in their attempt to stop the apocalypse.

By now, he knew that Dolores was a hopeless romantic in some of the worst ways, her _hamartia_ being the selflessness that always led to something terribly, stupidly heroic that he would have no power over to prevent. He could easily see her sacrificing herself for the “greater good,” or trading lives so that- in her eyes, at least- the “more important” member of their team could continue their mission. At that thought, he shook the brunette roughly awake.

She jolted slightly and mumbled incoherently until her words became clearer, “huh? W-what?” her eyes blinked open and she squinted up at him, “Fives?”

“I need you to promise me something,” he told her, his voice blunt and firm. This was something he would _never_ joke around about or take lightly.

“Wha-what are you talkin’ ‘bout?” it was clear she’d been deeply asleep, but this was more important.

“I need you to promise me something,” he repeated.

The brunette sat up and rubbed her eyes, yawning slightly, “I was _asleep_ ,” she complained.

Five ignored the pang of guilt he felt at her words; he knew as well as she did that sleep- any sleep- was hard to come by. He pushed it aside, “you can go back to sleep after this. I need you to promise me something.”

“You’ve said that three times now,” Dolores told him grumpily.

“It’s important.”

“So is sleep,” she grumbled, but his tone- for she could not see his face now that their fire was well and truly out- must have caught her attention, for she frowned, “what is it?”

“I need you to promise that you’ll never take a bullet for me.”

In her sleep-muddled mind, the sentence, out of context, did not make sense. She stared at him blankly, uncomprehending.

“Please,” he added, thinking that was why she hadn’t responded; she’d been on him about manners recently.

Dolores took a moment to understand his words. She could figure out his tone well enough; it was stern and unyielding with a strange desperation around the edge that only began to make sense as the sentence seeped into her mind. She frowned, “Fives-“

“Promise me,” he insisted, the desperation turning pleading.

“I… promise,” she said hesitantly, placing one hand behind her back and crossing her fingers, the darkness preventing him from seeing the action.

He knew her too well, though. Five reached forward and pulled both of the arms towards him, his hands sliding down to grasp hers tightly as he insisted, “say the whole thing.”

Swallowing, a leaden feeling heavy in her stomach, the brunette started slowly, “I promise that I’ll never take,” here, she paused to swallow again, her throat dry. In an instant, she recovered and finished the sentence, “a bullet for you.”

Relieved, Five helped settle her back down into a more comfortable position, the burden of her recklessness easing from his shoulders. For all of his genius, though, he did not recognize his mistake:

_a_ bullet.

\--

**_Present Day_ **

Dolores, Five and The Handler walked up to the front entrance of The Commission, a building that the brunette did _not_ miss. Once she and Five had left, she never thought they’d have to return. It was almost _more_ daunting to enter the building now, especially in her child-sized body.

Since landing in the time period, The Handler had not stopped talking, “I must admit, Number Five, in all the time I’ve been here, I’ve never met anyone quite like you. Hazel and Cha-Cha, for example, are talented, certainly, but… they can’t see the big picture. Your spunk, your enterprising spirit- well, it reminds me a great deal of myself, if I may be so vainglorious.”

As the white-haired woman spoke, Dolores tugged slightly on her husband’s arm, creating distance between him and The Handler. The outdoor path they were walking along was narrow and the brunette was uncomfortable with how close the two were. The Handler tried to take advantage of their close quarters and wrap an arm around the boy’s shoulders but Dolores saw the motion and got there first, her arm awkwardly propped up due to their difference in height. The Handler dropped her arm with a faint huff and continued, “if things work out for you here, you could potentially make a fine successor, Five.”

The trio approached the entrance of the gray-stone building and entered the large, open space of the lobby area as Five replied, “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.”

“Such _chutzpah_ ,” The Handler responded, “it’s refreshing, I’ll admit. Slow down, Five, all in good time. In fact, now that you’ve finally agreed to work with us, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

Dolores shot the woman an irritated look. _She’d_ been the first person to use _chutzpah_ to describe her husband and it was disconcerting- bordering on annoying- that The Handler would also notice.

“The Commission works in support of a delicate balance,” she resumed as they reached the upper levels of the building, “between the time line of events and mankind’s free will,” she noticed that both Hargreeves looked towards the room they were passing and added, “the briefcase is no longer part of your kit, Five. Free your mind. You’re management now, one of us. All the people on this floor are case managers, each one responsible for one major event at a time,” they stopped in front of the once-familiar room that Dolores had spent so many hours in.

The white-haired woman turned to her, “though I’m sure I don’t need to explain all of this to you, it should already be quite familiar with it, Dolores. Although,” she added, pausing as if considering a point before continuing thoughtfully, “I have heard that old age can affect your memory.”

The brunette gave the woman a flat, unimpressed look and said dryly, “who are you, again?”

Next to her, the boy’s eyes widened slightly and he hissed, “ _Dolly_ ,” for what felt like the umpteenth time, though the faint lift at the corners of his mouth betrayed his amusement. Hoping to salvage the situation, he turned his gaze to the-admittedly- remarkable room, “so many of them.”

Seeming to agree to ignore the previous comment, The Handler agreed, “impressive, isn’t it? To be part of something… so grand,” after a moment, she said, “come along.”

The two Hargreeves lingered for a second longer, Five turning to his wife as he gave her a stern look, “ _behave_ ,” he told her.

Dolores sent him a tight smile, “I will if she does,” she answered before following the woman’s path onward.

“Whenever someone chooses the wrong path and the time line is changed, The Commission gets a report from field agents on the ground. These field reports are sorted and assigned to a case manager. They determine if anyone needs to be… removed from the equation to assure that their event happens as it should.”

The group of three turned to look into a quieter room off the main hallway filled with pneumatic tubes, “based on that determination, the case manager sends instructions via pneumatic tube to temporal assassins like you formerly were, Number Five. Any queries so far?”

“Yeah. Who was the case manager handling me?”

“Ah,” The Handler said in acknowledgement, “you mean the apocalypse,” seemingly out of habit, she reached up, a finger outstretched, but Dolores was there first, shouldering the boy aside to give the woman a cold look. Her hand dropped back down and she gave the brunette an _apologetic_ look, but she could see straight through the demure front the woman was putting up. Behind her, Five huffed.

\--

They returned to the previous room that Dolores had worked in what felt like a lifetime ago but in reality had only been… not even a _week_. Time seemed much longer when you were saving the world from an apocalypse she supposed.

“Five, meet Dot. Dot, I’m sure you already know your former co-worker.”

“Hi!” she said, cheerful as ever. Dolores gave her a more genuine smile, remembering how the other woman had always been so fascinated by her magic tricks.

“Dot is responsible for all apocalypse matters,” the brunette said before she could stop herself.

Both Five- and, looking a bit put out- The Handler turned to look at her. It was her husband who asked, “how do you know that?” in a tone that suggested _why didn’t you tell me?_

“We’ve talked,” Dolores said with a shrug, replying with _it’s not that important._

Ignoring his incredulous look, the girl gave the white-haired woman a sickly-sweet smile, “sorry, you were saying?”

Giving the brunette a miffed glance, she continued, reluctantly agreeing, “yes. In fact, it was Dot here who first flagged your appearance in 2019.”

“No hard feelings,” the woman said quickly.

“Well, you certainly put us through the ringer. Outsmarting two of our so-called best temporal assassins. If that doesn’t spell _leadership material_ ,” here, The Handler raised her voice, bringing the typing to a stop, “I just don’t know,” she moved away from Dot’s work desk to the empty one in front before continuing, “I suspect you like a challenge, Five,” she pulled out the desk chair, “which is why I’ve given you a particularly complex first case,” she handed him a red folder.

As the boy opened it, she explained, “too bad Joseph Späh decided against sabotaging the fuel tank. It would’ve been so much easier.”

Dolores peered over Five’s shoulder to look at the contents of the folder, trying not to look _too_ surprised when she recognized the event, “the Hindenburg.”

“I’m glad all those years working for us weren’t wasted, though I would have thought your case recognition skills might be a bit sharper,” The Handler said with a smile, “ah, well, I suppose that’s the old age memory loss I was talking about earlier. Perhaps you should look into that while you’re here, it might give you something to do while Five is working on his case. I’d be _quite_ surprised if he needs your help.”

The brunette’s eyes narrowed in annoyance and she opened her mouth to respond, but Five beat her to it, “I’d say you’re in for quite a shock, then,” he answered with slightly forced pleasantness, “I’ll need her expertise to ensure I’m following company protocol.”

The white-haired woman sighed, “if you must. Anyhoo- if you have any questions, I’ll be right behind you.”

She left the duo at the desk, returning to the front where she’d indicated. Dolores awkwardly stood off to the side as Five reopened the folder to examine it more thoroughly, the brunette not having been given a place to sit or task to do. As she debated on what her next best move was, her gaze fell on her husband’s slightly hunched shoulders as he studied the case, his brows creased in concentration as he frowned over his work. Dolores’ expression softened.

The past few days had been hell for both of them for different reasons. They were both exhausted, though Dolores was more unsuited for the extremes due to lack of experience; she tended to take better care of herself on her own accord than Five did (it was only on her prompting that he took care of any of his needs.) Coming to a decision, she stepped into the small space between the back of her husband’s chair and the front of Dot’s desk, placing her hands supportively on the boy’s shoulders, her grip tightening slightly as her fingers settled onto the rough fabric of the navy jacket.

She felt him tense for a moment, surprised, but almost a second later, he relaxed. Allowing himself a moment of luxury- after, of course, making sure The Handler was otherwise occupied- he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against his wife, his shoulders falling into a more normal position at her touch. Dolores startled at the unexpected reaction but before she could respond, the moment was over and Five had gone back to studying the papers as if nothing had happened.

The sound of typewriters was more familiar to Dolores than it should have been for a girl born in 2004, but the noise was enough to drown out her thoughts and keep her mind pleasantly blank in a pseudo-nap as she stored up energy for the next leg of their plan. It was only Dot’s voice that broke the monotonous noises, bright, cheerful and piercing in an otherwise focused room, “hiya, Five! How’s it going?”

Five did not appreciate the distraction from the task at hand and responded, “I must have utter silence in order to complete this task,” in a cold, flat voice.

Behind him, Dolores huffed in annoyance and gave his shoulders a particularly strong squeeze, scolding him for his tone. For once, he didn’t care. He continued to roll up his finished order, heedless of Dot’s stammered reply.

Still, it seemed as if nothing could deter her as she spoke again, her voice resuming it’s usual tone, “hey, a few of us are having lunch and I was wondering if you…” she trailed off as Five continued to ignore her, opening his drawer to complete the report, “you’re doing something.”

He stood, Dolores’ hands falling from his shoulders, completely ignoring the woman sitting at the desk behind him and his wife’s admonishing look. Instead, he grabbed her hand and strode briskly out of the room, back to where he had seen the pneumatic tubes during their brief tour retake. As he pulled the brunette along a row of tubes, he was glad, at least, that she wasn’t verbally scolding him. They had more important things to worry about than offending some temporary coworkers and he didn’t need to be distracted arguing with her about it.

They paused in front of a tube labeled sixty-five and the boy reached out, carefully lifting the lid to slide the carrier inside but The Handler’s voice made him freeze, “I’m afraid that’s not procedure,” she said, approaching the pair.

Dolores was certain she wanted to come _closer_ , but she sent the woman a frigid look that stopped her in her tracks- for _now_. The woman smiled as if she hadn’t noticed the expression and reached out to pluck the carrier from Five’s grasp, “Five, meet Gloria.”

They both turned to at the advance of an elderly woman who was watching them with a concerned expression. The Handler beckoned her over, explaining, “Gloria is, perhaps, the most vital cog in our machine,” she paused, allowing the older woman to chuckle as she smiled proudly, “Gloria, meet Number Five. And, of course, _dear_ Dolores,” she added, almost as an afterthought.

Dolores gave the older woman a once-over. Despite her elderly appearance, there was something distinctly _off_ about her that most Commission members shared. While she _could_ have been someone’s grandmother, the brunette was more keen to liken her to the Big Bad Wolf from _Little Red Riding Hood_ _wearing_ the grandmother’s clothing. It wasn’t too hard to imagine Gloria proclaiming, “better to _see_ you with, my dear.”

As the two women stared at the younger pair, The Handler lifted the cap off the container and pulled out the piece of paper, unfurling it as Gloria cooed, “look at you. Deadly little thing. So happy we decided to close the contract on your life.”

“I’m afraid your reputation precedes you,” The Handler explained, her tone apologetic. She reached a hand out to place a consoling pat on the boy’s shoulder and Dolores’ free hand flashed out to stop her.

“This is _not_ a ‘please touch’ museum,” the brunette told her sharply, “what I said was a promise, not a threat.”

The white-haired woman jerked her arm from the girl’s grip and dropped her hand to her side, choosing to ignore her pesky reminder as she turned back to the boy, looking down at the slip of paper in her hands that read _Terminate Karl Weber_ , “oh… Karl Weber. Now, tell me, why unfortunate Karl?”

Five began to speak as The Handler placed the paper back in its container, “Karl Weber is the butcher at the sop where Captain Ernst A. Lehmann acquires his weekly roast. So, if Karl dies, his butcher shop is passed down to his son Otto, who never washes his hands, which is disgusting.”

The Handler’s eyes widened, “so he’s the one who gives the captain his roast.”

“And that gives him food poisoning-“

“Which makes him late for work,” Dolores added, catching on to the chain of events, “which delays the takeoff.”

Gloria looked between them as if watching a slow-paced tennis match, her expression earnest and interested as Five continued, “and to make up for lost time, the Hindenburg flies through a weather front of high electrical charge and humidity.”

The Handler’s expression turned nearly predatory, “and the static electricity inside the aircraft makes it a virtual tinderbox. Tiny engine sparks…”

“And just like that, we have…” Five trailed off, mimicking an explosion as Gloria’s face turned into one of shock and amazement and The Handler’s shone with pride. He didn’t care about either reaction, though, as he waited for the one he _did_ \- it was tiny, easily missed, but he held himself still enough that he could feel the slight pressure of the single squeeze that came from Dolores’ hand holding his.

\--

The Handler was particularly chatty as they returned to the work room, though neither Five nor Dolores paid much attention to her. As they entered the space, the woman called the attention of the employees, “I’m sure you’ve all heard that Mr. Five has proven to be as adept with a pen as he was with a sword. Let his effort serve as inspiration to you all.”

The pair returned to their previous work space, Dolores not missing the annoyance in the gaze of the man who sat next to him. She huffed, resuming her place behind Five. It wasn’t _her_ fault that Herb couldn’t solve a case on his own.

The Handler wasn’t done, “Herb!” she barked, causing the man to jump, “you couldn’t have solved that Lusitania case without _dear_ Dolores’ help, correct? And how long have you been working on Henry Ford?”

The man tried to stammer out a response, the white-haired woman seemingly oblivious of his embarrassment. Five returned to work, picking up another file. The bell rang for lunch, causing the workers to all get up at the same time and bustle out, leaving the two as the only remaining ones in the room.

Not letting his eyes lift from the page he was working on, the boy muttered a quiet, “ _Dolly_ ,” that only she would hear.

The brunette’s attention snapped to him, though when he didn’t continue, she bent so he could whisper in her ear. Though she tried hard to suppress it (since now was _not_ the time), she couldn’t help but shiver slightly as his lips brushed against her skin, “can you do a magic trick?”

She blinked, wondering what sort of code he was trying to use, “er, it depends on what it is,” she murmured back, pretending to read the open page.

“Make the apocalypse file disappear,” he whispered in reply and she smirked faintly in amusement.

“You got it, _Mr._ Five,” she answered, her tone turning into a gentle tease. As she stood, she flicked him lightly on the side of the head in jest. He rolled his eyes at the gesture, though he was pleased when she turned around to grab the file so as to miss the light warmth that spread over his face.

\--

Dolores paused outside the stall to the women’s restroom causing Five to look back at her, half-exasperated, half-curious, “what’s wrong now?”

“That’s the woman’s,” the brunette pointed out helpfully, “you can’t go in there.”

Rolling his eyes, the boy tugged her forward, “everyone’s at lunch, Dolly. Would you rather we go to the men’s?”

She huffed and allowed herself to be pulled into one of the stalls that lined the wall of the bathroom, smirk briefly flickering over her face as the boy sat down on the toilet. He caught her expression as he looked up, “what?”

“Have you realized what four feet _might_ imply to others who use the bathroom?” she asked suggestively, watching his ears turn pink.

“Stay focused,” was all he said in reply, holding his hand out for the folder. She didn’t miss the way his voice lowered a fraction, though.

Giving him a smug smile (which he ignored), she handed him the file she’d snatched from Dot’s desk and leaned against the stall door as he opened it. Before they got a good look at the contents (though _why_ a smiley face was the cover sheet was beyond her), the door opened and an annoyingly familiar pair of heels clacked on the floor.

“So, how’s your first day going?” The Handler asked as the door swung shut behind her.

“Couldn’t be better,” Five replied, glaring slightly as Dolores stifled a snort behind her hand.

Next to them, a dark skirt dropped to the floor as she sat, “glad to hear it,” she responded before coughing.

Five carefully folded the file before stuffing it under his vest. Dolores held her hand out for it but the boy shook his head, giving her a firm look.

“I burned my rugae,” The Handler continued conversationally, “ever burn your rugae? _Ru_ -gae. The ridges on the hard palate that help pass food to the esophagus. Anyway, I’m on a liquid diet for two days, hence the marathon of urination.”

In the next stall, the brunette caught the boy’s eye and mouthed, “ _TMI_ ,” to which he rolled his eyes.

“One faulty cog and nothing works as it should. You know, we value integrity at the office above all else. Trust is essential, and that trust is… built over time. But in the event of a breach, The Commission will act swiftly and without mercy, an efficiency I’m sure you above all people can appreciate, Number Five,” she paused, allowing the toilet to flush, “though if all you are currently doing is enjoying a coitus rendezvous with your wife, there’s nothing I can do to stop you.”

It was Five’s turn to cough unexpectedly in surprise, his face flushing darkly as he recovered from The Handler’s blunt words. She continued despite the boy’s obvious discomfort, “I’m feeling puckish. Have you had your lunch?”

He tried to recover his breath as he wheezed slightly, “n-not yet.”

“Great. How would you two like to have lunch with me in my office, provided your wife can appropriately satisfy your needs before break is over? You can eat solid foods and I can live vicariously through you,” she finished, the top of her head appearing above the stall door as she laid eyes on the two red-faced teens, Five’s from chronic embarrassment and Dolores’ from more recent irritation.

“Sounds great,” the boy replied.

\--

Five and Dolores sat opposite of the white-haired woman at her desk in her office, The Handler slurping noisily from a straw before she put the drink down once it was finished, “and that’s how Phil determined that the archduke just had to go. Care for dessert?”

The two teens exchanged a look, “we shared a bad Twinkie in the apocalypse once. It kind of put us off desserts.”

“Please, indulge me,” she insisted, gesturing to the bowl of neatly-wrapped sweets.

Glancing at each other again, they came to a consensus and reached forward to pluck two candies from the dish. They were a golden color that reminded Dolores distinctly of caramel and didn’t _seem_ poisonous. She startled slightly as the taste that was clearly _not_ caramel covered her tongue, the flavor closer to a sour-y strawberry.

“What does that taste like to you two?” she asked.

They both took a minute to respond, thinking thoughtfully over the flavor. Five was first, saying, “the 1950s?”

The Handler turned to the brunette expectantly and the girl quickly said, “the sixties?”

“Precisely right! Our metaphysics division concocted a way to perfectly distill an entire decade into a candy,” she explained, “Five, yours was modeled after the Fudge Mutt, America’s favorite in 1955. Dolores, yours was modeled after the original starburst, first popular in 1967.”

“Remarkable,” Five said, though he sounded entirely uninterested.

The Handler took a drag of her cigarette which had been lit a few moments ago, “you’ll be happy to know it’s the very division that’s building your new body. Oh, that reminds me. There was something else I wanted to show you, Five,” she pressed the button on the intercom, “Carla? Will you please bring the box in?”

“Certainly!” the voice on the other end responded cheerfully.

Seconds later, the door opened and a brunette walked in holding a box which she placed on The Handler’s desk before departing. Five stood to examine the box while Dolores remained seated, frowning slightly over the implication of _Five’s_ new body. While she didn’t trust The Handler for a second and highly doubted that it would arrive anytime soon, her husband getting a new body while she remained a teen would quite complicate matters in ways she didn’t like. She knew it was one of The Handler’s ways of trying to separate them as she made the effort to time and time again, but if they stayed here long enough, it might actually _work_.

“Go ahead, open it,” the woman told him.

Five looked up at her before back down to the box, lifting the lid to reveal an adult-sized suit.

“Clothes make the man, Five,” The Handler said, “won’t it be nice when you can actually wear it?”

He was quite for a moment, considering the implications before answering, “thank you. It’s a very kind gift.”

The boy turned away from the box to the display of weapons The Handler showed off in her office, “is that a Chinese flamethrower?”

“Good eye!” The Handler praised. Dolores finally stood, following behind so she could keep a close eye on the white-haired woman as she continued, “war. Such a fascinating concept. A temporary salve for a permanent human flaw,” she laughed softly, “of course, it’s a bit easier to see from thirty-thousand feet.”

The brunette grimaced slightly, the taste of the candy turning bitter in her mouth as the subject brought up the carefully locked-away memories of combat in the humid temperatures of Vietnam. Her lips thinned into a flat line in an attempt to keep her temper in check.

“These are just some of the things I’ve collected during my travels,” she explained, looking over the objects to chose one off the shelf, “like these M26 grenades from the Vietnam War.”

The shelf her memory box was on shook slightly, moving the container towards the edge a centimeter as The Handler’s cool expression landed on her and for once, Dolores had to force herself not to flinch away from her gaze. Five’s hand slid into her own, his fingers tightening protectively around hers.

She shoved the box back into place.

“Fascinating,” the brunette allowed, moving her gaze from the explosive to the shelf, “is that-“

“My Walther pistol,” The Handler agreed, sounding proud of her trophy, “the very one Hitler used to kill himself,” she held up the weapon to test its balance.

“How did you get that?” Five asked, his face expressionless.

The woman’s smile was deceivingly sheepish, “well, we’re not supposed to take these kinds of things, but… he wasn’t going to use it anymore, was he?” she sighed and put it back in its original position, “feel how perfectly balanced that is,” she handed the pistol to the boy who took it from her.

As he examined the weapon, he began to speak, “I had some thoughts I wanted to run by you. Some suggestions to improve Commission protocol.”

Dolores reached for the pistol herself. Though the gruesome history of war did not give her cause to admire the story behind the weapon, the history itself did. Five carefully held it out of her reach, giving her a side look that said _don’t_ as The Handler gave an interested sound, pulling the object from his grasp and replacing it on the shelf, “shaking things up already. I admire that. Go on. Do tell!”

“Gloria,” Five said immediately, following her back to the desk and pulling Dolores along with him, “the tube operator. Wouldn’t it be simpler if case managers were to send their own messages?”

“I appreciate the thought, I really do, but everyone loves Gloria. I-I would never hear the end of it. She’s been with the Commission family for years and she’s this close to making pension,” she said, holding up two fingers and pinching them together.

There was a knock at the door and Dot entered, panting slightly, “sorry to interrupt. May I have a moment alone?”

“Of course,” The Handler agreed, “duty calls. We’ll continue this discussion later, Five.”

“Sure, may I?” he asked, gesturing to the candies.

“Please.”

\--

Five and Dolores waited at the corner of the hallway intersection, the boy leaning out periodically to check to see if the coast was clear. As they waited, he turned to her, his expression concerned as he examined hers, “are you alright, Dolly?”

The brunette blinked at him, slightly confused, “yeah, why?”

He shook his head, “never mind. Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally,” she murmured in agreement.

Inside the tube room, Dot approached Gloria’s desk, “Gloria, The Handler knows that Five is up to something.”

Outside, the boy grasped the girl’s hand tightly and disappeared in a flash of blue. They reappeared inside of the room just as the elderly woman was turning around. Five let go of her hand and in an instant, the older woman collapsed. Dolores approached the unconscious form and gave the woman’s body a gentle nudge with her foot, making sure she really _was_ out, “good. She was creepy.”

Five gave her an amused smile as he plucked the tube from the woman and opened it quickly, bending over a typewriter as he unfurled the paper. Dolores turned away from the office to take up post by the door, keeping her eyes open for any witnesses. She might not have the power to reappear almost magically behind someone to knock them out, but she _could_ use a good old-fashioned punch.

Once he was finished, he handed her a container and together they sent the pair down the tubes, both of them looking up as The Handler’s voice sounded from the door, “you know that’s not how we do things here.”

Five leaned casually against the row of tubes and Dolores tried to emulate him, though her heart was pounding in her chest at the sense of danger that grew ever more present as the seconds ticked by. The rhythm in her ears sounded as if it were saying _do something, do something, do something_ , but all she could think of in reply was _do what?_

“Where’s Gloria?” The Handler asked.

_Do something, do something, do something._

“Don’t know. Couldn’t find her anywhere.”

_Do something-_

The tubes whirred around them, though not loud enough to mask the older woman’s groan as she came to, causing The Handler to turn and see a pair of legs sticking out from behind the desk.

_Do something, do something-_

“You’re a great disappointment to me. You can’t change what’s to come, Five. I truly find it so odd that you can’t shed this fantasy. You’re a first-rate pragmatist. You belong here, with us.”

“I only _belong_ to one person,” the boy replied through gritted teeth, “and it’s _not_ you.”

“It was always me,” the woman replied, “why do you think you fit so well here? It’s a shame you couldn’t realize that on your own,” she raised her hand, Hitler’s pistol held steady and firm in her grip, only…

It wasn’t pointed at _him_.

Anger turned his eyes a steely green as particles of space _wooshed_ around him, his grip iron on Dolores’ wrist as he pulled her with him to safety, the bullet entering the space she’d occupied a hairbreadth apart from when she disappeared.

More gunshots sounded in the room as The Handler attempted to predict where Five and Dolores would show up next while outside, Dot froze by the entrance before smashing the alarm button, sending the alert system blaring.

_Security breach in tube room. Security breach in tube room-_

_Do something, do something, DO something-_

They reappeared behind a rolling cart, which Five sent flying towards the white-haired woman who stopped it easily with her foot. Gunshots sounded over their heads and Dolores yanked her wrist out of Five’s grasp, clamping her hands over her ears as the box of memories tipped dangerously on at the edge of the shelf, her eyes wide as the boy grabbed her arm again, disappearing from sight.

“What’s the rush, Five? We’re just getting started!” The Handler called over the noise, turning as she tried to pinpoint their next appearance, “is this how you want the last line of your report to read?” she asked as the pair reappeared again.

Dolores could feel the particles around them get thicker and she forced her hands down to turn to the boy, “leave me here,” she insisted quickly, “you can’t take both of us!”

The look in his eyes was one she’d never seen before- darker than when he was angry and colder than when he was furious, his voice nearing a low growl as he hissed, “ _never_ ,” before he raised it to address The Handler, “when I’m done, I’m done, I guess.”

“You can’t keep this up, Five. We all know that even you have a limit. Listen to your wife and leave her here,” the pistol, which she’d kept level on the brunette the whole time, clicked as she tried to shoot it, but nothing came out.

“I do listen to my wife,” Five replied, his hand tightening around her arm as they disappeared again.

The Handler turned to see the pair at the office entrance, the sound of a pin being pulled from a grenade reaching her ears, her eyes widening slightly as the boy shook it mockingly at her, “but not about this,” he finished, rolling the explosive towards the woman’s red heels.

He yanked Dolores out of the office and into the hall, wrapping his arms around the brunette as they huddled in the safety of the corridor, the girl burying her face in the boy’s jacket. She took advantage of his momentary distraction as his arms tightened around her to turn them slightly so her back was to the blistering heat of the explosion, a barrier between her husband and the danger.

The _do something_ roar in her ears continued.

\--

They approached the briefcase room and Five attempted to pull his hand from her grasp. He turned to give her a slightly wild, furious look, “you’re _not_ coming with me!”

Dolores’ eyes flashed and she bared her teeth slightly before snarling, “like _hell_ I’m not. We’re in this together or not at all!”

He could feel their limited time slipping through his fingers as they stood in the hallway arguing, Commission employees running frantically past the only two still people in the building, steely eyes meeting in a stubborn standoff. The urge to protect her was strong, nearly drowning out his senses as he focused on their dangerous escape. One wrong move could put her in the line of fire and he refused to be the cause. At the same time, they could stand at an impasse until their time ran out.

The boy’s eyes flashed furiously at their checkmate before handing her the last grenade, “you pull the pin, I’ll grab the briefcase.”

The brunette gave a firm nod and together they vanished into the briefcase room. Five pulled out one of the time travel devices and set the date while Dolores waited until the last second to pull the pin out. She held on to the boy’s hand and they ran out of the room, leaving the grenade behind them.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up.

**_DO SOMETHING_. **

The explosion shook the building, shards of metal and glass flying towards them.

Five held up the briefcase to shield himself from the blow.

Dolores ducked underneath his arms and pressed her back against his chest, grasping the sides of the briefcase. 

As they were engulfed in a wave of blue, something sharp pierced her side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this is definitely the longest yet! I thought about breaking it up but I really wanted it all in one, so you guys get a MONSTER chapter this week... it's literally almost 7,000 words alone! 
> 
> Only four more episodes to go :)


	14. First-Class Priorities

**Wednesday, 8:15 a.m. (again)**

“Klaus, shockingly, has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Diego asked his assembled siblings (minus Five and Vanya).

Before anyone could answer, blue electricity crackled in the air and two bodies fell out onto the bar table, Five landing heavily on top of a brunette girl.

“Je-Jesus!” Allison exclaimed, stumbling backwards.

“You guys, am I still high, or do you see them too?” Klaus asked.

Dolores groaned, her face nearly glued to the black box underneath her, “Five, get off me.”

“Five, where have you been?” Luther demanded, talking over the girl.

Five climbed off the table and slid to the floor, the impact jarring him slightly. Dolores closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she could sleep for a few minutes on top of the briefcase. With a sigh, she sat up, wincing and rubbing her face. Glancing down at the floor, the jump seemed farther away than it was supposed to and she braced herself, crashing straight into her husband who caught her quickly, giving her a worried look.

Before he could pry into her wellbeing, though, Allison ran forward to help steady the brunette, alarm evident in her tone, “are you alright?”

Even Luther was surprised at the ungraceful landing, “who did this?”

“Irrelevant,” Five answered sharply, unwilling to have his siblings pester Dolores about her health before even _he_ knew. He took Allison’s coffee from her hand and downed it quickly.

“So, the apocalypse is in three days,” he began as the brunette straightened beside him, “the only chance we have to save our world is, well, us.”

“The Umbrella Academy.”

“Yeah, but with me and Dolores, obviously. So if y’all don’t get your sideshow acts together and get over yourselves, we’re screwed. Who cares if Dad messed us up? Are we gonna let that define us? No. And to give us a fighting chance to see next week, we’ve come back with a lead,” he held up the paper, “We know who’s responsible for the apocalypse.”

Allison took the paper from him and unfolded it as he explained, “this is who we have to stop.”

“Harold Jenkins?” she read, while Diego chimed in, “who the hell is Harold Jenkins?”

“I don’t know yet, but I do know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse, so we have to find him and we have to do it now,” the boy answered as he threw the empty coffee cup across the room.

“How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Luther asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Wait, so you just got his name?” Diego questioned, stepping forward, “that’s it?”

“That’s enough,” Five answered shortly.

“There’s probably dozens of Harold Jenkinses in the city!”

“Well, we better start looking, then.”

“I’m sorry, am I the only one that’s skeptical here?” Allison protested, looking around at the group, “I mean, how exactly do you know all this about what’s-his-name?”

“Harold Jenkins,” Five replied promptly, “you know those lunatics in masks who attacked the house?”

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember those guys,” Klaus agreed from his seat on the couch as he scratched the back of his neck.

Dolores sent him a sympathetic look; the glimpse she’d gotten from her memories hadn’t been pleasant. Her attention returned to the group as Diego grumbled, “yeah, the ones that attacked us while you two were getting drunk.”

“Yeah, them. They were sent to stop us from coming back and preventing the end of life on Earth.”

“The Temps what?” Allison asked, crossing her arms.

“Our former employer,” the brunette explained helpfully, “they monitor all of time and space to make sure whatever is supposed to happen, happens.”

“Exactly,” Five said, nodding, “they believe the apocalypse is coming in three days, so I went to Commission headquarters and intercepted a message that was meant for said lunatics- ‘ _Protect Harold Jenkins_ ,’ so he must be responsible for the apocalypse.”

There was a heartbeat of silence where Dolores thought everyone had processed what they said. She shouldn’t have hoped for such an easy route, though, as they all started talking at once, Allison’s voice rising above the rest, “do you have any idea how insane this sounds?”

Sighing, the brunette buried her face in her hands, not having the energy to deal with Five’s dysfunctional siblings. The pressure was on them to save the world with only three days left and now they had the name of the man responsible. All she wanted to do was just _go_. Sitting around and talking wasn’t going to help and the myriad of protests were giving her another headache.

“You know what else is insane?” Five was saying as he pointed to himself, “Dolores and I look like fifteen-year-olds, Klaus talks to the dead, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everyone with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been.”

“He’s got a point there,” Klaus agreed.

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it,” he told them firmly, “for the next three days, anyway.”

“But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died,” his sister pointed out, “why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my daughter?”

“Because this time we’re here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving billions of people,” he looked at Allison, “including Claire.”

“You know her name?” she asked in surprise.

“I do,” he nodded, “and I’d like to live long enough to meet her.”

Allison paused a moment, thinking, before a look of determination entered her eyes, “alright. Let’s get this bastard.”

“You had me at Gerald Jenkins,” Diego added.

“Harold Jenkins,” Dolores corrected him, lowering her hands by her sides as she straightened her shoulders, _finally_ preparing to go. Immediately, she winced. _Bad idea_.

“Whatever. I’ve already lost two people this week. I’m not losing anyone else,” he declared as he headed for the archway and to the door.

Five looked to his brother, “and Luther?”

“Yeah, you guys go,” he answered, “I’m gonna stay behind and go through dad’s files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the moon.”

“ _Seriously_?” the brunette grumbled, earning a glare from the larger man.

Diego echoed her disbelief, “now you wanna make the end of the world about you and dad?”

“No. ‘Watch for threats.’ That’s what he told me,” Luther said defensively, “you think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.”

Allison tried to convince him otherwise, placing a gentle hand on his arm, “no, we should all stick together.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Five grumbled.

“Let’s roll. I know where we can find this asshole. Klaus, you’re with me,” Diego told him decisively, jerking his head towards the door.

“Yeah. I… I’m good. I think I’ll, uh,” the man stood up, wobbling slightly as he did so, “I think I’ll pass. I’m feeling a little under the weather, so…” his voice faded as he left the room.

Diego shrugged at his departure and the four of them filed out of the room and headed for the car.

\--

The car ride was awkward at best, with Diego and Allison being the siblings Dolores had least interacted with. The motion of the driving vehicle didn’t help much either and she kept her eyes closed for most of the time, praying she wouldn’t act on the nauseous feeling in her stomach. If she showed signs of discomfort, it would distract Five from the mission. She could pull through. She _had_ to.

They pulled up to the police station and Diego parked the car as he said, “I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record. We just gotta get our hands on his file.”

“And your plan is to, what?” Allison asked, “waltz in there and ask for it?”

Her brother looked up into the rearview mirror to watch the off-duty policemen standing around and drinking coffee as they talked, “I know the station like the back of my hand, sis. I’ve spent a lot of time inside.”

“Handcuffed.”

“Whatever. Here’s the plan-“

“Plan?” Five interrupted, furrowing his brows, “I’m just gonna blink in and get the file.”

“No, that’s not..” Diego trailed off, “you don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay?”

“I literally just did this yesterday.”

The dark-haired man turned to look at him, confused, “what?”

“Our yesterday, not your yesterday,” he explained, “it’ll take me two seconds. Why can’t I just go?”

“Listen to me,” Diego answered, turning around to look at his brother better, “you aren’t going in there. I made a call. That’s what a leader does: he leads.”

Dolores blinked drowsily, “I thought that was Luther.”

“Yeah, well, Monkey-man isn’t here,” he told her, “just stay put. Allison, you’re the babysitter in charge, okay? Make sure the kids don’t wander off.”

Five’s face twisted into an expression of anger as Diego unbuckled and got out of the car, “I’m not a kid!” he protested furiously after him.

A small laugh next to him caused the boy to turn and glower at the brunette though the anger wasn’t directed at her, “it’s _not_ funny.”

Dolores couldn’t help the smile that curved on her lips, “it is a little bit.”

“It is _not_.”

“I can’t stay in this car any longer,” Allison said after her brother had disappeared, “I need to call Vanya.”

“Same here,” Five agreed, opening the door and sliding out. He blinked over to the passenger’s side and opened Dolores’ for her.

The brunette climbed out, wincing slightly as she bent to avoid hitting her head on the frame. The boy gave her a suspicious look though she pretended not to see it as the three of them made their way to the payphone. Allison made a beeline for it, inserting coins into the slot. Before she dialed the number, though, she turned to look at the two teens, “don’t move,” she told them sternly before turning back to the phone.

Five huffed in irritation and opened his mouth to complain about it loudly, but froze as he watched Dolores lean slowly against the wall of the building, her right arm wrapped around her waist as her fingers disappeared into the fold of the jacket.

“Dolly?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you okay?” his tone had taken on the suspicion his eyes had held.

She opened her eyes to meet his, trying to appear innocent, “right as rain, why?”

His expression hardened at her answer, “you ducked in front of me as we left. You couldn’t have escaped unscathed.”

“Maybe I’m just lucky,” she told him lightly, hoping the guilt from her lie wouldn’t creep into her voice.

He gave her a disbelieving look, “there were shards flying everywhere. It’s almost impossible for them to have _missed_ you.”

“We disappeared at just the right time,” she shrugged, ignoring the twinge it sent up her side, “we have really good timing.”

He looked exceptionally displeased with her response, though he had to drop the subject for the time being as Diego had reappeared. Five turned to him, “so?”

“You’re welcome,” he said, handing the boy a file.

Allison, finished with her call, joined them and snatched it out of her brother’s hand and opened it. She flipped through it quickly, stopping as she came on a photo of the man and her eyes widened, “holy shit.”

“What?”

“Harold Jenkins _is_ Leonard Peabody.”

\--

“Be careful, okay?” Allison said as the quartet exited the car and began to walk towards Jenkins’s house, “we don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.”

“Yeah, he didn’t seem dangerous when I first saw him,” Diego retorted, “looked kinda scrawny.”

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murderers. I mean, look at him,” Allison gestured to Five.

“Thanks,” the boy answered, unaffected.

As they made their way up the porch steps, Diego asked, “so, what does this guy want with Vanya?”

“I don’t know. How about we ask him after we kill him?” Five answered sarcastically.

“Whoa, whoa,” his brother paused, holding out his hand to signal for quiet, “hey, look. I’m gonna burst through..” he trailed off as he realized Allison had disappeared, “you know what? It would be nice for people just to stick to-“

That was all Dolores had heard as Five grabbed her hands and blinked them inside the house. They heard an explosion of glass from the front door and went to see what had happened, which turned out to be Diego following through with his plan. He collapsed in a heap on the ground, groaning in pain.

“Subtle,” his sister said, staring down at him as she walked in.

Five reached over and twisted the knob, allowing the door to open, “you know, the door was unlocked.”

Diego got to his feet slowly, shaking off the glass that had scattered around him, “yeah, well, my way works just fine,” he pulled a knife out of its sheath, “spread out. Yell if, you know, you’re in trouble.”

“Ah, inspiring leadership,” the boy said with a roll of his eyes.

“One of the greats,” Allison agreed in the same tone.

“Come on, Dolly.”

Dolores followed her husband into the living room. There was nothing about it that screamed _I’m about to end the world_. It was rather standard, with a couch, a coffee table, TV, bookshelf with dusty books. It could have been anyone’s home.

“Why are we still here if he’s not?” she asked, trying to not let the exhaustion she was feeling creep into her voice.

“We’re looking for clues, Dol,” he reminded her.

“Like what?”

Five shrugged, “we’ll know it when we see it.”

The brunette stood in the middle of the room as Five poked around. Even if this man _did_ happen to be a serial killer or something, it felt odd to invade his privacy. It was then that she realized she’d never _been_ to another person’s house.

A part of her wondered if this realization came with the blood loss she was currently facing, but the larger part was suddenly very concerned about this fact. The only other house she’d ever inside was the Academy and that wasn’t really a _house_. Growing up without friends or much of a social life meant that she’d had no other _reason_ to go to someone else’s home. With the exception of The Commission- which she didn’t think counted, anyway- she’d only ever been inside two homes. This seemed important for some reason. 

She was abruptly pulled from her unfocused thoughts as Allison called, “guys, you need to see this!” from somewhere upstairs.

Diego fell into step beside them as they headed up to where Allison was. The attic door was open and the ladder was down, so they took turns climbing up into the dimly-lit space. Allison was standing in front of a cabinet where posters and photos of The Umbrella Academy were displayed, but it wasn’t any sort of trophy case Dolores had ever seen. On the paper images, the siblings’ eyes were scratched out, while on the figurines, their faces were melted off. She shivered slightly and wrapped her arms around herself. This _very_ much had an ‘end of the world’ feeling.

 _Found it,_ she thought groggily.

“All of our face are burnt off,” Allison pointed out the obvious as she stared at the figurines in disgust.

“Well, that’s not creepy. This guy’s got some serious issues,” Diego agreed, peering over his sister’s shoulder.

Dolores attempted to take a step forward, hoping to push past the two taller siblings that now stood in front of her view point but as her foot lifted, the room swam suddenly in front of her. Maybe climbing a ladder _hadn’t_ been a good idea. She set her foot down, though that didn’t help the fuzzy black spots that entered her vision, “ _shit_ ,” she breathed, her arm tightening around her stomach.

At the quiet sound, Five turned away from the grotesque shrine, his brows furrowed as he glanced at her in concern. Allison continued to observe the display, “this was never about Vanya. This was about us.”

The boy ignored her, choosing to, instead, reach out for his very pale-faced wife who seemed to be having trouble breathing. Their eyes met and he saw a flash of an apology, followed by guilt, go through them before they closed and her legs gave out from under her.

Alarm coursed through him as she toppled and he leapt to catch her, lowering the girl gently to the ground before she made contact with it. His pulse pounded through him as blood roared in his ears, blocking out most thoughts except the ones that focused on his wife, “Dolly?” he asked, shaking her. His voice was higher-pitched than he remembered it being, something akin to panic causing his throat to close and make words hard to come by.

“Dolly?” he asked again, his voice nearly frantic as he shook her, “you said you didn’t get hurt!” he protested accusingly to the unconscious girl in his lap, “you said we made it out in time!”

Allison and Diego watched with surprise as their normally composed brother became frantic at the sight of the brunette girl lying still on the floor. It was only when she heard the crack in his voice did Allison shake herself out of her shock and bend down to be level with the boy, making sure to gentle her tone as she tried to get his attention, “Five, hey- Five,” he looked at her, his eyes wide and glassy in a way she’d never seen them before, “she’s going to be okay, alright? I’m just going to-“

She reached out to lift the brunette’s jacket to see what was going on underneath, but Five’s hand flashed out and caught her wrist in a vice-like grip as his eyes flashed with anger. His tone had gone from high-pitched and nearly breathless to a low snarl in a second, “ _don’t_ touch her.”

“I’m just trying to-“

“I don’t _need_ your help,” he all but growled at her, “we’re just _fine_ on our own.”

With wide eyes, Allison nodded and he released her hand, allowing her to retract it and stand up again. Trying to take on the role of leader, Diego cleared his throat and said authoritatively, “right. We need to get her back to the house. Five, if you could just-“

He had begun to say _let me pick her up_ , but the boy was heedless of his words and gathered the girl into his arms before disappearing in a flash of blue. Diego sighed.

\--

It took Five four jumps to return to the Academy, partly because of his extra passenger but mostly because the weight of Dolores in his arms had thrown his whole world off its axis and he could hardly get his mind to focus on the final destination. All he could think about was that she’d _broken_ her promise not to get hurt.

She couldn’t have forgotten it, so the only answer was that she’d gone against her word, but even then he couldn’t blame her. _He_ was to blame. He’d seen that she hadn’t been “right as rain” as she’d claimed, yet hadn’t pressed her hard enough to find out the cause of the issue. Now, she was lying unconscious in his arms and it was _all his fault_.

A final jump landed them in the infirmary of the Academy, a place where he and his siblings had spent quite a bit of time in growing up, even more so than most children. As reluctant as he was to part with her, fixing her was more important, so he carefully laid her down on the medical table.

They’d patched each other up more times than he could count over the years, first with the limited medical supplies in the apocalypse and then whatever The Commission had to offer whenever he (rarely) returned from a mission injured, so he knew what to do. The silence in the room as deafening with Dolores’ light breaths barely making a sound despite the fact he was working right above her.

The first task was to remove her clothes from the spot covering the wound, so he carefully maneuvered her out of the Academy jacket, which he tossed on the floor next to him. Then, Five used a pair of surgical scissors to cut through the strap of the overall-dress to open it, laying the flap of fabric on her non-injured side. His hands slipped on the lower buttons of her shirt and only then did he realize that they were shaking.

As the constant in his equation, Dolores’ safety had always, _always_ been his top priority. Even when he’d been trying to spare her the effects The Commission had on him, she’d been the single point of consistency in whatever the world had thrown at them and now he hardly knew what he’d do without her.

Shaking his head to focus on the task, he finally managed to undo the last necessary button to pull the fabric away from her skin and he sucked in a quiet breath at the sight of the wound. While blood had never affected him as violently as it had for his wife (how could it, with the way his life had turned out?), the sight of _so much_ visible on her made his stomach clench at the reminder of how poorly he’d lived up to his personal promise.

Telling himself that it _couldn’t_ be as bad as it looked, he poured antiseptic on a clean cloth and began to wipe around the area where the shrapnel had entered her side, needing to be able to see the wound before he could stitch it up ( _how_ he would with unsteady hands was a problem he’d solve once he got to it.) The cloth soon turned pink from the residue around the injury, but despite the color he continued to painstakingly clean the area.

Five was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice another person- _being_ \- enter the room, though he would have been hard-pressed in any normal circumstance as Grace never made much noise anyway. He _did_ startle when a cool hand rested lightly on his shoulder and he turned, his eyes flashing dangerously at the intruder as his free hand went to the surgical scissors to convert them into weaponry.

Grace remained unaffected by the violent startle she’d given the boy and waited patiently for the recognition to dawn on his features, which it did a moment later. Smiling serenely at him, she nodded to the brunette girl on the bed, “go on, dear. I’ll take care of her.”

He didn’t go right away, uncertain as to whether he could trust her with someone so important (he’d always doubted Grace’s capabilities, even in childhood), but as he looked down at the scissors in his hand, he could see the soft movement they were making even when he was making an intentional effort to hold his hands still.

Five turned to look at his wife laying on the table, the twist in his stomach returning as he took in her still, paler-than-normal features. For someone who was usually so animated, full of opinions and rarely rested, it was surreal to see her lying so motionless in a way that obviously wasn’t sleep. Then, uncharacteristically, he turned back to Grace and sought for reassurance, “will she be okay?”

The woman’s features remained soft and pleasant as she smiled gently at him, “of course. I’ll patch her up, good as new.”

With that, the boy gave a jerky sort of nod in acceptance and turned on his heel, leaving the room without looking back. He knew any sort of drawn-out departure would ensure he’d stay.

After her son left, Grace turned to the brunette girl on the table and took in her appearance as she pulled on surgical gloves. Pogo was right; their book thief _did_ look quite a bit like Vanya when she’d been younger, though with notable differences.

The girl’s face was more angular and was thinner in width all around. Her nose a bit larger and lips fuller than Number Seven’s had been. The hair, though, was the exact same, with the book thief’s being only longer in length. The eye shape, too, was extraordinarily similar, though their color was yet to be determined, as Grace had only seen the girl from a distance with her eyes open. Still, the resemblance was uncanny, even if there was no true relation between the two girls.

\--

After leaving the infirmary, Five paced anxiously in the hall for what felt like several long minutes but was, in reality, only a handful of seconds. Unable to take the uncertainty, he abruptly turned and changed direction for the downstairs foyer, needing something to do while he waited.

As he approached the entry hall, he saw a recently-returned Allison and Diego, who spotted him immediately. It was his brother who spoke first and Five was surprised at the concern in his tone, “did Mom make it up in time?”

It took a minute for the question to process but eventually he nodded, “yeah,” then, he changed the subject, “let’s go.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Diego said, reaching out an arm to stop him, “what do you mean, ‘let’s go?' Are you seriously going to leave when your girlfriend is injured?”

Five turned to his brother, his expression cool and firm, though both of his siblings saw the distraction in his eyes, “the world is going to end in three days no matter what, Diego, even if my _wife_ isn’t on her feet. We need to get Jenkins while we can.”

His siblings stared at him in stunned silence for a moment before Allison spluttered, “w- _wife_?”

“Is that all you picked up from what I just said?” he asked scornfully.

Diego’s face hardened, “even _more_ of a reason not to leave, then. Allison and I, we’ve got this, Five. You’re not coming.”

The boy gave him a disbelieving look, “am I supposed to leave the fate of the world up to a wannabe hero and supermom?”

The dark-haired man grit his teeth and did his best to ignore the insult, “look, this is what I do for a living, alright? Now, you’re going to march your ass back up to the infirmary and _be_ there for your wife.”

Five scoffed, “what you do for a _living_ -“

“Five,” Allison said sternly, interrupting what was probably going to be another insult, “you don’t want her to wake up alone, do you?”

That got his attention and he turned his gaze to his sister and a desperate edge appeared in his tone, “what am I _supposed_ to do?”

“Trust us,” she answered simply, “and be there for your wife when she wakes up. In case you’ve forgotten, she _protected_ you.”

Of _course_ he hadn’t forgotten, but how could he sit around and do _nothing_? Whenever Dolores had been even slightly uncomfortable in the past, he’d always been able to remedy it right away. There wasn’t really a way he could _fix_ this and the helplessness was an unpleasant stranger to him. Still, as he watched his siblings depart again, he supposed the only thing he _could_ do was give her time and wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:   
> 1\. This is definitely late, but I thought I'd share the "faceclaim" I've been using for Dolores (though, of course, you can picture whoever you want!) I chose Malina Weissman who I think is quite similar (at least, as a younger version) to mannequin!Dolores in the series. Also, Dolores has absolutely no relation to Vanya; I know I've brought that up more than once now, but it's just to better help visualize her, it's NOT a plot point. (Un)fortunately, there's no hidden meaning behind the comparison other than that. :) 
> 
> 2\. Next week's chapter will most likely be late or I might even have to skip a week. We're in the process of moving right now and it's been pretty hard to get chapters out on time with everything going on (since we're downsizing by half, there's a lot to do!) but I wanted to have something to look forward to each week. Next week, though, is our "official" move, so things will be even busier. I promise that a week break does not indicate in any way that I'm giving up on this story or going on hiatus- I fully intend to continue even in the midst of unpacking, but I just thought I should give you guys a heads up in case I don't have enough time to write!


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